Not So Easy
by vulnera-sapientia
Summary: Natasha has learned to look after herself. But when her life is in more danger than she can handle, a certain special agent is assigned to watch out for her. Only thing is, she isn't looking for a babysitter. A different kind of love story for these two characters
1. Paranoia

**Hello good people. For those who follow my other story i'm working on, i've had some serious writer's block. So i hoped that writing a different story might get those creative juices flowing. **

**I love Marvels The Avengers, and I especially love Clint and Natasha. This isn't anything to do with that world though, it's completely mundane. And by mundane, i mean there aren't any genetically altered characters in here. It's a story i've just completely made up about two characters i happen to ship from a movie.**

**I hope you enjoy. If you like it then i'll continue. Thanks!**

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Today was a good day.

As Natasha walked home in the afternoon sunshine, she couldn't help but smile. Her college classes were so ridiculously easy for her that it was like she'd already passed the course. The London air smelled just a little sweeter with the cherry blossoms in full bloom across the campus, and to top it all off, a cute guy in her class asked her out. Her beautiful pearl skin and fiery red hair, along with her classic good looks, usually attracted attention at the beginning of every semester. Although she had been flattered, unfortunately she was in no way ready for another relationship. She'd just broken it off with the last guy who showed interest in her. He'd been nice, but he wanted to move way faster than she was willing to allow. He'd given her no choice; she didn't trust people easily and she'd barely known him for six months.

_That's way too short a time to build trust, _she thought to herself. _You can't have a solid relationship without trust._

For some reason her father popped into her mind. She hadn't seen him in six years, and she had no idea where he could be.

_That's what happens when your father is a spy, _she thought bitterly. _You can't have a real relationship with a man you barely even know._

Yeah, well. Her story was an unusual one.

Her parents had met while her father was on a mission in Russia. Her mother, Alexandra, had been a Russian peasant. John Graham, her father, had saved her one night from a couple of thugs. From what her grandparents had told her, it had been love at first sight. And when she had fallen pregnant with Natasha, John asked her to marry him and she'd happily accepted.

Unfortunately, her parents' love story did not last long. John was called away for a mission shortly after they had moved into their American home, and Alexandra soon became paranoid. He'd told her he was a travel agent and she couldn't understand why he was away so often. They didn't know each other at all and she became depressed, mentally unstable. One day she simply disappeared, and Natasha was taken in by her mother's parents. With her father away so often, there was no way he could be a fit parent. He was never spoken about around her grandparents.

However, there were perks to having a spy as a father. For two weeks every year, Natasha's grandparents would send her to a 'camp' that, unbeknownst to them, was really two weeks at a safe house with her father. John always made sure that every year until she was fifteen he was able to come and teach his daughter. Natasha was taught how to survive, just as he was, in the hopes that she would always be able to protect herself if he was no longer there. The relationship with her father was built on strength and discipline. By the time she was ten she could speak six languages, not including her native English and Russian, and was accomplished in several hand to hand combat techniques. She didn't realise how it was possible that a travel agent could have such knowledge until her grandparents were killed in a car accident when she was fifteen, and her father had actually come to see her at the funeral. She confronted him, wanting to know who he really was and, surprisingly, he had told her everything. How her mother had committed suicide when she was an infant and he couldn't care for her because of who he was. How he had convinced her mother to give her daughter her maiden name so enemies of his wouldn't come after her in the future. After that, she was sent to a boarding school paid by her father until she turned eighteen.

She hadn't seen him since the day of the funeral, but he sent her gifts every year on her birthday. When she turned eighteen and left the boarding school, her father had sent her a bank account number that was in her name. She found it had enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life, but she'd wanted to go to college. She decided to study abroad, and eventually settled on London. Over the years her father had sent her things to let her know he was alive; her twenty-first birthday had been last week and she'd received the deed to a holiday home in the Caribbean.

Her father had given her everything she would ever need in life: money, a superior education and valuable life skills. Deep down she loved him very much; but she didn't even know him. Every time something new came in the mail, whether it be a piece of jewellery or a new offshore bank account in her name, she would resent him a little more because he wasn't there in person to wish her a happy birthday. She knew he was serving his country as an agent, but the selfish part of her wanted him here to be the father she always wanted.

"Great," she muttered under her breath. "I've managed to ruin my own mood. Well done."

She came to the footpath leading up to her door step and stopped. Reminiscing about her father's profession must have made her paranoid, for as she looked at her house, something didn't feel right. But everything looked exactly the way she'd left it, she was sure of it - she had a photographic memory. Everything was exactly the same as it was this morning, so she shook off her paranoia and made her way to the front door.

Natasha grabbed her keys out of her bag and pushed it into the keyhole. As she opened the door that weird feeling returned. Only when she shut the door and turned around did she realise she hadn't been imagining things.

Three large men in black stood in her lounge, waiting for her.

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**Let me know what you think! :)**


	2. First Impression

**Sorry for being slow with updating, you don't know how many times i re-read this chapter, hoping to get the scenes right. I hope i did them justice.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha took in the scene before her.

The three men were big, and they definitely looked like they were in the right house, so this couldn't be some mistake. They looked like agents.

_He was right, _Natasha thought to herself.

Her father had said that her training would come in handy one day; that someone might come after her and try to use her as bait. It was a good thing she kept herself in shape all these years because she was about to find out just how much she'd learned. She'd never needed to defend herself up until this point. But her father's voice appeared in her head, reminding her of what he'd taught her.

_Take in your surroundings… Observe your opponent… Wait for an opening and use it._

"What are you doing in my house?" She asked quietly.

"Natasha Romanoff?" The closest man asked, ignoring her question. She remained silent and he took it as confirmation.

"We're going to need you to come with us," another man said, and she tensed.

"What for?" she asked.

"I'm afraid that's classified," the first man responded, and they started moving toward her.

No way was she going to let them take her, not without a struggle. Her senses went into hyper drive, and she ran forward into the first man and punched him in the throat to incapacitate him. While he struggled for breath, she tried to run down the hallway and out the back door - but the two other men were blocking her path.

_Only take on your opponent if necessary… If you have the option, always attack to temporarily incapacitate and then run to safety… If you are outnumbered, attack to keep them incapacitated for as long as possible without killing…_

John's voice echoed through her head and she focused on the two other men in front of her. Just as the first man was getting back to his feet behind her, she spun back around and landed a kick to the side of his head, knocking him out cold. As the other two men approached her, she ran forward and using her hand, pushed upwards at the closer man's nose, breaking it. As he cried out she kneed him in the groin and he collapsed in pain on the ground. She watched him fall, and in doing so took her eyes off the third man who came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She heard him call to someone, but she wasn't paying attention. She was in autopilot now. Using her body weight as an anchor, she pulled her arms to her chest and pushed as hard as she could, breaking the man's grip. She fell to the ground on all fours and swung her leg around in front of her, knocking the man's feet from under him. When he dropped she pinched his neck, causing him to lose consciousness.

Natasha took a shaky breath and stood to look at what now resembled a battle ground. Blood was on her carpet; her side table had been broken in the fight, and she had a gash in her couch. But she wasn't worried about that. These people had found her, wanted to take her and she didn't know why. Maybe her father was in danger… She needed to leave right now before more people showed up.

The emergency bag. Natasha had made sure to prepare for this day, which was why there was a duffel bag upstairs that had a passport, money and everything else she needed in case she had to make a run for it. Her father had taught her very well.

She made sure the three men weren't going anywhere before she took the stairs two at a time. Unfortunately for her, she'd forgotten one of her father's most important rules.

When Natasha entered her room to collect the bag, she didn't notice another person behind her until she felt the needle pierce her skin. When she turned around, she found a man standing in front of her. He was dressed in what looked like black military gear, holding a syringe.

_He just drugged me, _Natasha thought in disbelief. _He actually managed to surprise me. I've gotten lazy…_

Only then, as she felt her body give into the fogginess, did she remember her father's rule.

_Always make a clear assessment of your surroundings – don't foolishly run into a room without first scouting it… You never know how many more enemies are around…_

* * *

Clint Barton stood there watching the woman sway. When she began to drop he grabbed her in his arms and looked at her. She had notable Russian features from her mother, but she was definitely her father's daughter on the inside.

Clint frowned. He had told his boss that it would be better if he came alone so as not to waste time and resources, but Director Bailey had insisted that he would need help. He just felt bad that three agents had to get their asses handed to them for him to take this woman seriously. He came here thinking that she would be someone who could be easily persuaded to come with them without trouble, someone afraid to disobey the law. He should have known that as John's daughter, she'd be anything but.

He'd probably just made things worse by drugging her instead of trying to talk her down. In her defence, she didn't have much information to go on, but their orders were not to tell her anything until she was back at headquarters. Besides, judging from the commotion he'd heard downstairs, she was beyond a simple talking to from a stranger.

Still holding on, Clint bent down to put his hands behind her knees so he could carry her downstairs. When he reached the bottom he was a little taken aback. His agents were only just getting to their feet; Adams was holding his crotch and nose and looked like he was about to cry. But when they saw their superior they immediately shook off their pain to address him.

"We didn't know she was so…" Adams started, but couldn't find the right word.

"So much like her father, Sir," Cane finished.

Clint grinned. "Well, you do now. Looks like we've got our work cut out for us. Let's get back, the boss will want to tell her himself what's going on."

The men all left the house and made their way to the SUV. Cane opened the door for Clint and he gently slid Natasha on to the seat before putting her belt on. He then got in beside her to keep an eye on her. He observed her strong features that seemed softer as she slept. She was in great shape, but still managed to have a classic hourglass figure that no doubt drove guys insane.

But his observation was purely objective. This was John's daughter. He'd promised John that he would do his best to watch over her, make sure she was safe. That's the only reason he was here in the first place; as a favour to the man who was his mentor. Well, that, and Director Bailey had wanted a skilled agent to bring her back to Paris unharmed. When he wanted a job done well, he sent Clint.

He'd do what was asked of him. He'd protect her until John and the boss said otherwise; keep her safe from people who would do anything to get to her father and what he possessed. But judging from what happened today, this was not going to be as easy as he initially thought.

* * *

**Hmm... Well, Natasha certainly dealt with them. But why come for her? Is she being taken as bait or what?**

**Clint has seen what Natasha can do. But Natasha probably won't warm up to Clint after not only drugging her, but being able to drug her in the first place - quite stealthy. We'll see how she retaliates in the next chapter.**

**I'll explain more of the story line in the next chapter as well, set the groundwork, so hang in there. All will be explained!**

**Let me know what you think! :)**


	3. Off the Grid

**I decided to write another chapter for you lovely people.**

**I hope you like it! :)**

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When Natasha woke up, her head was throbbing. She opened her eyes, wincing.

Not only was it throbbing, but she felt… foggy. Like…

_Like she'd been drugged._

She'd been drugged. That guy had drugged her and taken her… Taken her where?

She tried to stay calm, keep as clear a head as possible and figure out where she was. She sat up in the subtle lighting and took in her surroundings. It looked like she was in a hotel bedroom – an expensive one at that. She was lying on a beautifully covered bed with a soft throw over her, and lavish furniture sat everywhere she looked. When she eventually glanced at the night stand by the bed, what looked like aspirin was sitting next to a glass of water. Natasha hesitated. Maybe it was another drug, something to simply knock her out again once the other drug wore off. She didn't want to risk it, and instead left it sitting there to walk over to the glass door. When she looked out, she almost collapsed.

The Eiffel Tower could be seen in the distance, its lights prominent in the evening sky. She couldn't believe it. Whoever had taken her had managed to move her across the continent. It didn't seem as if she'd been unconscious long from how dark it was; a few hours at most.

She needed to get out of here - now. She had no idea who had kidnapped her, or how long she'd been away. For all she knew, her captors could have been drugging her every so often so she didn't wake; it was possible that she'd even been out for days. Someone might be coming to check on her soon. She looked back out the glass door; there was a small balcony, but from what she could see, the floor she was on was a few stories above the ground floor. An escape out there would probably be a last resort, so she sneaked to the door of the bedroom and slowly opened it.

It looked like she was in a suite, with an open lounge that was brightly lit and a modern kitchen off to the side. Another door stood across from her, most likely a second room, and the main door sat off to her right. She stood still for a minute, listening out for movement. There was none. She decided to risk it. She ran out of the bedroom and around the expensive lounge suite to the door.

As she was about to grab the door handle, it began turning and she jumped back, panicking. She'd wasted too much time. If she was lucky, it would only be one person checking on her. She could knock them out and then run downstairs and call the police. Call someone that could make enough noise that she'd be able to disappear in the crowd, not be seen. When the door opened and the man walked in, at first she froze. It was the same man who had drugged her. He was still in his military gear.

She hesitated for only a second before her instincts kicked in. Before he could defend himself, she moved forward and punched him in the side of the head. The amount of force she used should have knocked him out cold. But he simply shook it off and raised his hands.

"Miss Romanoff, you need to calm-" but he didn't finish.

Natasha tried to attack again, but he was ready this time. As she came forward and moved her arm forward, the man moved to her right to dodge her punch and grab her arm. She spun around and gave him a hard kick to his side and he let go, but he didn't show any signs of pain. Instead he gave her an amused grin.

Suddenly Natasha was furious. This man drugged and kidnapped her, and had the cheek to grin at her? He wasn't going to get away with it.

Natasha, fuelled with rage, ran forward and tried to punch him, but he deflected it. She tried again, but he blocked. He was fast, she'd give him that. They were pretty evenly matched; he could anticipate her attacks, but he remained on the defensive. Natasha felt like he was going easy on her. Thoughtlessly, she'd been too mad to properly watch her attacks and had left herself vulnerable a couple of times. Any adequate fighter could have used the openings to take her down.

_He's toying with me, _she thought angrily.

Without thinking, she spun around in fury, intending to kick him in the groin. A dirty shot, but she didn't care. Maybe playing dirty was where he drew the line; as she brought her leg up, the man used his knee to block it. He then grabbed her arms and pulled her in. Before she could retaliate, he'd spun her around and handcuffed her hands behind her back. He came to stand in front of her.

"What the hell do you want with me?" she asked, struggling against the cuffs. The man sat down on one of the couches and then motioned to the opposite one.

"If you sit down, I can explain what's going on," he said calmly.

Natasha glared at the man. He was handsome… and she immediately hated herself for noticing. He probably thrived on women admiring his good looks. He must be in great shape too, because he hadn't broken a sweat at all. Although Natasha was fit, their little exchange had left her slightly breathless. But him? He sat there as if he'd just been for a stroll in the park. It made her hate him even more, and she didn't even know his name.

Despite her hatred, Natasha needed information, and he was willing to give it to her. She reluctantly walked over to the other couch and sat down.

He brought out what looked like a wallet and flashed an ID card. "Miss Romanoff, my name is agent Clint Barton. I work for the CIA, and judging by the moves you pulled, I'm assuming you know that your father is also an agent for us?" Natasha remained silent, and he took it as confirmation.

"Your father is one of our top agents, and for the past six years he's been undercover in a major crime ring in Russia."

_So that's why I haven't heard from him in person, _Natasha thought. When her grandparents had died, not only did he stop her training, he'd stopped visiting altogether. She thought he'd simply lost interest. The only way he even acknowledged her these past six years had been through birthday gifts. Barton continued.

"Recently he came across some blueprints-"

Barton was interrupted as a tall, skinny man entered the suite, along with two other agents.

_The agents from my house, _Natasha thought, _minus the guy whose nose I broke._

Barton stood up and nodded. "Director Bailey. Davis, Cane."

The men nodded back. "Agent Barton, how are we going?" The taller man, Director Bailey asked.

"I was just explaining our current situation, sir," Barton replied respectfully. Barton's superior nodded again and then came to stand in front of Natasha. He frowned, and then turned towards Barton.

"Agent, why is Miss Romanoff in handcuffs?"

Barton shrugged. "She attacked me. I had no choice." One of the agents, Cane, snickered and Barton grinned. However, they both stopped when Director Bailey looked at them.

"Attacked you? Wow… she's more like Agent Graham than we initially thought."

Barton agreed. "That's what we said." Natasha simply glared at him. "Do you want me to unlock her handcuffs?"

The boss looked at Natasha. "Yes, yes. She'll be fine, won't you?"

Natasha moved her glare from Barton to the other man. "I will be if someone explains to me why the hell I'm here."

"Barton, I thought you explained everything?" Bailey questioned.

"I was in the middle of informing Miss Romanoff when you came in. Sir," Barton explained stonily.

_Do I suspect a hint of hostility? _Natasha thought to herself. She stored that information away for later.

The boss sniffed. "Yes, well. Continue, please." Barton nodded.

"As I was saying before, your father intercepted blueprints that a Russian scientist created for the crime ring before he was killed. The ring got hold of it and were trying to transport it to a mole in the American government. The blueprints are of a nuclear weapon unlike anything we've seen; it has the potential to wipe out half the country. If the mole gets these blueprints then they can sell it on the black market for billions of dollars. It could start the next world war."

Natasha was speechless. "But… what do I have to do with this?"

Barton hesitated. "Well… because your father was undercover, when he took off with the blueprints, his whole cover was blown. It wouldn't be impossible for the biggest Russian crime lords in Europe to get hold of classified information… for example, knowledge of a daughter… who can be used as leverage to get the blueprints back."

Barton's boss began talking. "We promised your father that until those blueprints are destroyed forever and he's back on American soil, we will protect you at all costs. It's only a matter of time before they find out about you, which is why we brought you here. I apologise for such… inconvenient means, but we had to get you here as quickly as possible. We need to keep you here, in a secure location, until the Russians have been taken down and your father can come out of hiding."

"Come out of hiding? Where is he? Is he okay?" Natasha demanded.

"Your father is an expert at going off the grid," Barton said. "He's as off the grid as it gets. But in order for him to remain that way, he can't have contact with anyone while still in Russia. It would be easy to track him down and do what they needed to get the blueprints back. And you need to be in a secure location, somewhere with constant eyes on you, for your protection."

Natasha felt sick. Her father was in danger. She was in danger. And she couldn't do anything about it… or could she?

Her father had taught her about living off the grid. She could do that. Her father had secret bank accounts all over the world for her. How easy would it be to disappear off the face of the earth, become someone else? She had her father's contacts; maybe she didn't need these guys. He'd made sure that she had everything she needed for every possibility. Besides, how could she even trust these people? How did she know they weren't lying to her?

_I don't, _she thought. _There's no way to tell._

In thinking that, she looked at agent Barton, who was watching her. He could probably tell what she was thinking by her silence. For some reason, she didn't think he was capable of lying about something like this. She still hated him though. She couldn't wait to be away from him, the prick.

"As long as I no longer have to interact with him," she said, gesturing to Barton. "So what, I'm sent somewhere far away to be guarded until my dad manages to make it out of Russia?"

Barton snickered and Natasha glared at him again. "Am I missing something?"

Director Bailey cleared his throat. "Well, this mission is top priority, and we've sent all our best agents but one to Russia to help bring them down quietly. We recently discovered there is a corrupt diplomat in the Russian government covering up the business with the crime ring, and we're trying to bring him down as well as the crime lords. But we'll explain more later. Your safety counts as top priority, you see, so instead of moving you again, we've brought you directly to Paris to be guarded closer to French headquarters. It was out of courtesy that you're allowed in this hotel at all - otherwise you'd be underground in a bunker. You'll have more than one person around. This whole hotel is a front for the CIA, so you're completely safe; there are agents at every entrance, behind every door. Like I said, all our highest agents but one are engaged in other matters. Lucky for you, the best of the best will be here with you until this whole thing blows over. Our head agent has been assigned to protecting you. And as the Director of Operations, he'll also be looking over the entire operation."

Natasha sighed. "He sounds wonderful. So when do I get to meet my new babysitter?"

Barton laughed. "Oh you already have, sweetheart. They don't call me head agent for nothing."

* * *

**Oh boy... five minutes and Clint has already managed to get on Natasha's bad side.**

**Natasha is a strong character, and the fact that Clint could beat her is not sitting well. Plus the fact that he's gotten the drop on her not once, but twice? Naw sweetie, it's like you want Natasha to hate you :) Haha**

**I've written Clint as a character that, because his job is so stressful, he takes amusement out of the smaller things. A hot woman who is attempting to beat him - a highly skilled secret agent? Ohhh yes, very amusing :)**

**ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Hopefully another one will be up soon. I'm going to try and put in a little backstory possibly, explain why Clint and Natasha are the way they are.**

**Let me know what you think!**

**PS sorry for the huge A/N, but if you've read my other story, you'll know how much I luurrrrrvvv to explain my intentions throughout the story. Expect a lot of this haha xx**


	4. Escape

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"What!?"

Clint grinned. He might not like her that much, but he definitely enjoyed her. Five minutes in this place and she'd made him want to laugh more than he had his entire life. The fighting and the glaring - oh yes, she was a welcome breath of fresh air. He just wished that he didn't have to babysit her.

And that's what he now was. He had been demoted to babysitter. It was true that her protection was top priority, but Clint wasn't made to sit on the side lines. He needed to be in Russia, working with his men, undercover - operating on the field, not from a radio.

_You owe me for this John, _he thought to himself.

While Natasha argued with the Director of the CIA, Clint remembered why he was here in the first place. If it wasn't for John, he wouldn't be the agent everyone looked up to for guidance. When he'd been at his lowest point and wanted to quit, it had been John who'd picked him up and dusted him off. It was John who had taught him the techniques he knew like the back of his hand. John was like the father he never had.

When Clint's father had died at a young age, his mother had taken to the bottle. She died from liver failure while Clint was in his first year of college. Not long after, he was approached to join the CIA. At first, he'd thought it was a joke; but he soon learned otherwise.

He struggled for a while. His mother's death affected him more than he would admit to any agency therapist. John Graham found him in the gym late one night, his face streaming with tears, going at a punching bag so hard his knuckles were bleeding. John sort of adopted him after that. Taught him how to channel his pain into something good, taught him how to be a better agent. It was John who taught Clint how to speak German; he was a better teacher than the ones who got paid to do it. Clint wouldn't be the agent he was, wouldn't be the _man_ he was, if it wasn't for John. And for that, he was grateful.

_Grateful enough to babysit his damn daughter._

Jeez. He just knew she was going to make this hard for him. She didn't need to tell him she despised him; he could see it in her eyes every time she looked at him. There wasn't much he could do about that though. Like him, she was confident in her abilities and didn't like to be beaten. She had moves that would rival some agents here. But he'd been trained for years and had to use his skills on a regular basis. If John had continued her training, he had no doubt she would be a very worthy opponent, even for him. But she wasn't an agent. If he had to guess, she hadn't needed to use those techniques often at all.

He thought it over. It probably didn't help that he'd laughed at her either...

Director Bailey was still trying to calm her down.

"Miss Romanoff, Agent Barton is at the top of his field - in espionage and operations. He's the best man for this job…"

Clint focused his attention on Natasha as Bailey talked him up. He knew that he was the best in the business, but he didn't like to hear about it. It was a fact: he was good at his job. But it wasn't like he did it for the attention. He did it because he was loyal to his country.

From what he could tell, Natasha didn't give a shit. Seeing Bailey sweat while trying to neutralise this 'situation' made him a little happy. He didn't like Bailey. But perhaps he was biased. If John hadn't chosen to go on that mission himself, he probably would have been Director. But like Clint, he preferred to be out in the field instead of behind a desk.

Natasha groaned. "How long will he need to watch me for?"

"At this point I can't be specific. It could be a couple of weeks, or a year, but-"

"A year?! Are you kidding me?" Natasha yelled, and Clint couldn't help it – he laughed.

Natasha glared at him. "Do you think this is funny? I have a life! I can't just pause it. I have friends who will be wondering where I am and-" He was enjoying this argument.

"Miss Romanoff, we need to make sure your life isn't in danger. Until we can give you more information, I'm afraid you're to stay in this building. And Agent Barton _will_ be with you at all times. Now," Bailey said, walking towards the door. "We'll leave you two to get to know each other more. Agents will be stationed outside."

Clint looked up at the Director, who nodded at him. "Agent Barton."

"Sir," he replied. Thank god. He was wondering when he would finally leave.

When the door closed, the two of them sat in silence. Clint observed Natasha as she sat across from him. She looked upset, and though he felt somewhat sympathetic for the mess she'd been thrown into, he was more interested in who John's daughter really was, and if she was as tough as she looked.

"So, how are-" he started, but Natasha cut him off.

"I'm not interested in an interrogation right now."

He smiled. _Such a temper. She must get it from her mother._

"Actually, I was going to ask how you felt about all of this. It's a lot to take in," Clint replied.

Natasha glared at him and he raised an eyebrow. "Please. I've known who my father really was since I was fifteen. He trained me since I could barely walk, okay? I don't need your sympathy. This was inevitable."

"Judging from your fighting techniques, you've taught yourself a couple of things too. I don't remember your father fighting dirty."

Natasha laughed. "My father taught me to win by any means necessary, I'm his only daughter. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I'm not exactly unattractive, and men who get a little grabby tend to get what's coming to them."

Clint whistled. "I should count myself lucky that I can defend my manhood."

Natasha was silent for a moment, and Clint watched her features, looking for some telling sign. He could tell she was up to something; she was unconsciously narrowing her eyes while deep in thought.

While it was admittedly cute, it was also suspicious. He'd have to keep a close eye on her. But he forgot what he was thinking about when she yawned and grabbed her head.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"My head. It's been throbbing since I woke up," she replied and Clint chuckled.

"After effects of the drug. Sorry about that, by the way, but it was necessary."

Natasha let go of her head and glared at him. "Necessary?"

Clint held up his hands. "Hey, you're the one who beat up three unarmed men. We needed to get out of there fast and you were slowing us down." He braced himself for her abuse, but it didn't come. She looked like she wanted to attack him again, but she quickly composed herself.

"I really don't want to get into this. I'm going to take that aspirin and go to sleep. Don't let anyone kidnap me."

Clint grinned. "I'll try my best."

Natasha moved to the room, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

She needed to get out of here. After silently locking the door, Natasha walked over to the doors. She opened them and looked out over the balcony. The jump was definitely too high for her to escape without injury… but maybe she didn't need to jump.

Below her balcony was an awning for the entrance to the hotel. She couldn't see anybody underneath it, but she would have to be careful that no one saw her. There were bushes under the ground floor windows, so hopefully they would hide her.

Climbing over the edge, Natasha looked down at the awning. It looked relatively strong, but for a second she became worried. It didn't matter though. If she didn't get away now, she would be stuck here forever. It was a miracle Barton hadn't put the hand cuffs back on her. Not that they would stop her; picking a lock had been one of her first lessons - one that had come in quite handy over the years.

Lowering herself closer to the awning, Natasha was now holding on to the bottom of the balcony with her hands. She made sure she was directly above her target, and then let go. A second later she was bouncing on the awning.

It held strong, and Natasha barely made a dent in it. Before getting off, she remained still to make sure no one had noticed her fall. When she heard nothing, she made the jump from the awning to the bushes below.

Now to make it out of Paris.

* * *

Clint was about to order room service when he realised his mistake.

"Oh no," he muttered as he went over to her door. He knocked, but there was no answer. He tried the door knob.

Locked.

Luckily he had a key.

Unlocking the door and entering the room, Clint immediately regretted taking the hand cuffs off of her. The doors that lead to the balcony were open.

"Dammit," he shouted, as he walked across the room to the doorway.

The curtains billowed in the evening breeze.

And Natasha Romanoff was gone.

* * *

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	5. Distance

**Let me know what you think guys!**

* * *

Natasha didn't stop moving until she was far enough away from the hotel to think – if she'd counted right, the hotel was about twelve blocks behind her now.

But that still wasn't far enough. If Barton was as good as Bailey talked him up to be, he would have realised she was gone by now - and from what she had learned, he was pretty good.

She would need to be extra careful from now on.

Natasha took a moment to check out where she was. It was after nine o'clock, but there were still a decent amount of people on the streets. Most of the shops were closed, but she saw a bar across the road that was open. She needed to find out where the train station was so she could get out of the country.

Her father had warned her that if she ever found herself in a similar situation to this, the first thing she needed to do was find a safe way out. She'd done that. The next thing she had to do was put as much distance between herself and her captors as possible. That meant catching a train out of Paris. She thought of where she could go, made a list of what her father had given her over the years that could help her at this moment. Although there was plenty of money, she didn't have access to it right now. She couldn't go into a bank because they were all closed at this time. She didn't have a credit card on her or her check book. All she had were enough notes in her pocket for a train ticket.

But there was money hidden at the houses she owned from her father. She could go to one of them and hide out until she heard from her father. Back when he had trained her he had taught her how to send coded messages – they had even come up with their own special code. If he ever needed to contact her, he would use their code. Natasha decided to contact him first.

Stored in her memory was a number her father gave her in case of an emergency. No one knew the number but her, and it was impossible to trace. If she rang this number and left a message, she trusted that whenever her father got out of Russia and found out she was also off the grid, he'd ring the number and know where to find her.

_But which safe house do I go to?_

Whichever was fastest to get to would be best.

Natasha went through the list of homes she had received, recounted their locations. If her father was telling the truth, there were three houses in Europe alone that she could choose from. The closest one was probably in Barcelona, Spain. She checked the amount of money she had in her pocket: about three hundred dollars. Lucky break.

_I guess Barton didn't feel the need to search me, _Natasha thought.

In thinking that, her mind wandered for a second. Under different circumstances, she wouldn't have minded being strip searched by him, fighting and rolling around, ending up in the sheets…

She wasn't blind. Barton was hot. And the man had skills that she, grudgingly, found incredibly attractive. He was the kind of guy that you went up fighting against just so you could have him pin you to the ground in thirty seconds. Okay, maybe fifteen.

She blinked and shook her head. Now was _so_ not the time to indulge in impossible fantasies. The man was probably hunting her, getting even closer as she stood here, dreaming like a fool. She needed to find a phone and then get to the train station. Hopefully she would get there in time to leave for Spain, and Barton would be none the wiser.

Natasha made her way over to the bar door and opened it. When she entered she became enveloped in the smell of smoke and alcohol, despite the low number of people inside. She walked over to talk to the bartender. As she got closer she noticed him checking her out.

"What can I get you, beautiful?" the bartender asked in French.

Natasha replied, her words as fluent as if French were her first language. "Actually, I was hoping you could give me directions to the train station. I'd be very grateful." She flashed him another smile.

The bartender drew directions on a napkin for her and handed it to her.

"Thank you so much. Is there a phone I can use?"

The bartender was more than happy to let her use the phone out back, and once Natasha was alone she called her father's number. She left him a coded message that would sound like a whole bunch of nothing if someone else happened to hear, but her father would know where to go if he heard it.

The train station was only a few blocks away so Natasha continued walking until it came into sight. Not much longer and she'll be off the grid until she can talk to her father. The thought was welcoming. She hadn't seen or heard from her father in six years, and though she barely even knew him, she knew she missed him. She also knew he was a good man and he was good at what he did, so she would absolutely see him at some point. She just hoped that he would make it out of Russia, sort out this national security matter and find her soon. Once she got to the house in Barcelona she would sort out what she needed and then move on to her next safe house. She didn't want to move around a lot, but she definitely didn't want to stay in Europe for much longer - the further away from Paris, the better.

Natasha entered the train station and went to the ticket booth where she paid for a train ticket to Barcelona. There was one leaving in about ten minutes.

Unfortunately, ten minutes was a long time to wait when you were trying to get away from someone, and Natasha grew paranoid. She kept getting the feeling that she was being watched, but there was no way Barton would know where she was going. She figured he would still be on the road, looking out for a red head running through the streets.

As she walked toward her stop an arm reached out from a large cargo room and pulled her through. When the door closed and she looked over at the owner of the arm, she was dumbstruck.

"How's it going?"

_Impossible._

* * *

Clint stood looking at Natasha. Her look of disbelief was priceless.

He was tempted to laugh, but he kept the humour off his face while he took in the sight off his escapee. Her red, wavy hair was framing her face in a way that highlighted her porcelain skin, and right now her fierce eyes were staring holes into him. He didn't expect her to escape so quickly. But after he found her room empty he knew where she would go.

After all, they were taught by the same man.

He was just lucky he knew his way around Paris, or else she might have actually gotten away, and that would have made his job a little more tedious. He knew this was where she would be, but as to where she planned to go from here was anyone's guess.

He realised that she got threatened when outnumbered, which was why he didn't tell anyone she had escaped - not even Bailey. He'd come alone. He didn't care if he got suspended for letting her get away or not reporting it; he just knew that he had to keep her safe - for her father. This meant convincing her to stay under his guard in the first place, without her jumping into action every time she saw him.

Hopefully he could convince her to trust him, he wanted her safe. Besides, he enjoyed her company. She was… entertaining. Not that he would say it aloud – she'd probably try to kill him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when she spoke. "How did you find me?"

His face remained impassive. "Let's just say I know you better than you think."

She glared at him. "You know nothing about me. I don't need you, or the CIA, to protect me. I can do this myself. Just let me go."

"I can't do that. My orders are to protect you."

He watched the emotions cross her face – for someone who didn't know anything about her, he found it awfully easy to read her. She looked annoyed, like he was inconveniencing her. Next was frustration, and then finally, determination. He'd seen that look on her face before: right before she attacked him in the hotel room.

He was right, for a second later she was flying at him. She extended her arm out and tried to punch him in the throat but he blocked it, only for her to spin around and kick him in the thigh.

"Ouch. Not bad, Romanoff," he said, and she ran at him again. This time she used both arms to fire hard punches at him, but he continued to block. He had to pay attention in case she decided to fight dirty again, but she kept at her punching, getting one or two hits in.

Clint was enjoying himself, but they couldn't keep at this forever. He needed to get her back to the safety of the hotel. Just as he was about to grab her arm she twisted around, grabbing his own arm instead. Using it as a hold and grabbing his shoulder, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his neck. Using her weight, she pulled him down to the ground and rolled him over her. He landed on the ground with a thud.

_Holy shit, she got one over me._

He was impressed.

And not going to let it happen again.

When she went to stand up he swung his leg out, sliding her legs from underneath her. She fell to the ground next to him and he rolled over. He quickly positioned himself on top of her, trapping her arms in his hands and pinning the rest of her body with his weight.

She was silent as she slowly looked up at him. She didn't struggle against him like he assumed she would. He didn't say anything, just watched her eyes as they stared into his, felt her breathing increase slightly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, like she was getting a hold of herself. For what, Clint didn't know. While her eyes were closed he took the time to admire her.

Being above her gave him the advantage of seeing her features more clearly. This woman was all kinds of impressive. Her looks, her skill. Even her attitude. It was too bad she was John's daughter. If they had met differently...

She opened her eyes and glared at him. "Let me go. I have a train to catch."

Clint snorted. "Nice try. But I have a job to do."

Now she began to struggle. She tried punching and kicking, but her arms were still tightly secured by his hands and her legs were pinned together between his own. She wasn't going anywhere except for the hotel room. Carefully holding both of her wrists in one hand, Clint reached to his belt and grabbed his hand cuffs, which he then used to secure Natasha's hands in front of her. He then helped her off the ground and walked her out of the storage room.

They were stopped by security as he was walking her out, but he only needed to flash his ID and they were left alone. When he got her to the truck, he refastened her hand cuffs behind her before helping her into the back seat. She could probably pick the locks on her cuffs given enough time, so he might as well make it harder for her. Hopefully she wouldn't get them undone before they made it back to the hotel.

* * *

When Clint pulled up to the hotel entrance he knew something was wrong. The agent usually stationed outside the main door was nowhere to be seen, and looking inside, he couldn't see anyone behind the desks. He gently pulled Natasha out of the car. Judging by the look on her face, she knew something wasn't right either.

"What's going on? You look… worried," she said when they walked into the lobby.

"It's a little quiet," he responded.

They took the elevator up to their floor and stepped out. Clint heard scuffling around the corner, and then a single gunshot. He immediately pushed Natasha behind him and silently poked his head around the corner. Lying on the floor were two dead agents. One had been shot, and it looked like the other had suffered a broken neck.

Three men were standing in the hallway next to the bodies. And they were about to enter the suite.

* * *

**Admitting attraction is always the first step ;) **

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for reading!**

**Read and review away! x**


	6. Ambush

**I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.**

* * *

_Not good. The Russians must have found out about Natasha already._

Clint pondered that thought as he watched the men enter the hotel suite. How did they find out about her so quickly? And how did they know she was here?

The mole. It had to be.

This was worrying. If they knew about this, they knew about everything. That made Clint's job a tad harder, but hey. He was always up for a challenge. He would protect Natasha at all costs, no matter what.

When the men were inside the room he remained silent, trying to listen out for others. When he heard none, he looked around the hallway.

_There._

A supply closet.

She was not going to like this.

He turned around to talk to her and saw the fear on her face. It was gone in a second, but he still saw it.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly. Natasha looked at him as if he were stupid.

_Ridiculous question._

"Alright, do you trust in my ability to keep you safe?" This time she looked at him differently. Hesitantly. Finally she nodded.

He smiled reassuringly. "Okay. Everything is going to be fine. I'm going to take care of these guys and then we're going to check out the rest of the hotel, but for now I need you to hide in that supply closet."

He pointed over to the door and Natasha glared at him. "Are you kidding me?" she growled quietly. "I can help you. I don't want to be a sitting duck."

"You won't be a sitting duck. And though I can admit you have skills, I don't know just how skilled these guys are, and I don't want to worry about you getting hurt. Please, just stay here for now. I'll come back when the coast is clear."

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. "What do I do if they beat you?"

This time it was Clint who looked at Natasha like she was stupid. She shrugged her shoulders.

"They could be better than you."

He looked at her and grinned. "In the _extremely unlikely_ event that I'm beaten, I want you to stay here until you hear agents coming to check it out. Now get in the closet."

He opened the door and Natasha glowered at him before walking in. He shut the door behind her and locked it from the outside. Then he went to check out the suite.

The men were efficient. They didn't speak, just methodically searched each area of a room, and then moved on to the next. Right now, they were searching the lounge and dining area. He had to act now. While two of the men were on the far side of the room, Clint ran up behind the third man, wrapped his arm around his neck and pulled him to the ground where the shadows hid them. He used his free hand to muffle his yelling so he couldn't alert the other two of Clint's presence. After a moment the man stopped moving and Clint gently laid him down. The men started speaking as he was about to stand up.

"She's not here," one of the men spoke in Russian. Clint crouched down next to the unconscious man and listened.

"She has to be," the other man replied. "He said she was."

_The mole, _Clint thought to himself.

He needed to neutralise the threat and then find out what the hell was going on. Natasha needed to be taken somewhere else, somewhere secure.

He stood up and walked over to the dining table, positioning himself behind the men who were turned away from him.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked in Russian. The men turned around to face him, but didn't say anything. Instead they moved around the table in front of Clint and positioned themselves on either side of him. One pulled out a gun.

"You can tell us where Natasha Romanoff is," the man with the gun replied. Clint smiled.

"I can't do that. Orders," he said, shrugging.

The man with the gun moved forward – close enough for Clint to grab his arm and point it at the other man. He pulled the trigger and the man screamed, the bullet hitting his shoulder. While he was down, Clint focused on the other man who was trying to free himself from Clint's grip. Still holding on, Clint slammed the man's hand against the table and the man lost grip of the gun. Clint then elbowed him in the chest, causing the man to lose his breath. Clint added to the man's chest pain by kicking him in the ribs. The man fell to the ground and Clint grabbed the gun off the table, knocking the Russian and the base off the neck and causing him to lose consciousness.

While Clint was focused on the man in front of him, two other men had silently entered the room. Clint turned around and was hit across the face with the hand of a gun. He stumbled back, and the man who hit him used his foot to push the back of Clint's legs. Clint fell to his knees.

"Hands on your head," the man with the gun yelled in Russian. The other man came forward, pointing a gun at him as well. Clint slowly raised his hands, feigning defeat.

_I could deal with them now and get Natasha to safety, but… If I stay down here and keep these guys talking, maybe I can get some information on who the mole is. I mean, seriously, they don't look too bright. Maybe something will slip._

By delaying his attack, he could get valuable information. He decided to wait a while before knocking these assholes out.

* * *

Natasha was frustrated. She'd picked the hand cuffs as soon as Clint had shut the door. Now she just needed a way to get out of this stupid closet. There was no way she was staying in here like some damsel. Hell no. She needed to be in on the action, show she was able to take care of herself.

She needed something to fit in the door lock and jimmy it around until the lock clicked. Shouldn't be too hard considering where she was. Surely there would be something in here that could-

Ah. Maybe that could do the trick.

* * *

"Where is Natasha Romanoff?" the man in front of Clint asked irritably.

"How did you find out about her?" Clint asked, and the man who hit him touched his gun to the back of his head.

"Do you not understand? You are not in a position to be asking questions, fool. Where is she?"

Clint almost giggled. These guys were asking for a whooping. He just loved it when people underestimated his skills. But he needed to hold on until he was sure that they wouldn't give up any information. So he buried the urge to spin around and beat the man senseless until the time was right.

"How do you know about her? How did you find her?" he asked again. The men both laughed.

"You think we're stupid?" the other man asked sardonically.

"Well, honestly-" Clint started, but was interrupted when the man he was facing toward was pushed to the ground from behind.

While the man holding the gun to his head was distracted, Clint swung his leg around and knocked him off his feet. He could hear the other man grunting, but was too focused on the man with the gun to see who had come in. Clint stood up, and so did his opponent, ready to fight. The Russian had brute strength, but that was nothing compared to Clint's skill. Clint easily beat the man with a few well-placed punches, dislocating the man's shoulder and jaw, and breaking a few ribs. He didn't want to kill him; he wanted these men to send a message to the mole that he was coming after him. He would do whatever it took to take the son of a bitch down.

While thinking this, he momentarily forgot about the other man until her heard someone slump on the ground behind him. When he turned around, he couldn't believe it.

"I told you I could help," Natasha said smugly. Her opponent was unconscious on the ground. It looked like his face had been thrown into a wall a few times. He wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

"What the hell… how did you get out? I locked the door!" he exclaimed.

Natasha smiled. "You left me in a supply closet. Luckily there was a clothes hanger handy. A little jimmying was all it took."

"Jesus Christ, Natasha. I told you to stay in there," Clint said quietly. Natasha glared at him.

"What, no thank you? If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead right now. Those guys were about to shoot you!"

Clint snorted. "Give me some credit. These men are idiots; they couldn't have killed me if I was tied upside down and hanging right in front of them. I was letting the bastards think they had me so I could try and get some information out of them!"

"How was I supposed to know it was all part of some stupid plan? You should have told me!" she shouted.

"Are you joking right now? You were supposed to stay in the damn closet so you were safe!" he shouted.

Natasha looked like she was ready to kill him. "Safe? What would I have done if they'd looked in the closet? I would have been easy picking. Let me remind you that I don't need you to look after me, I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself!"

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Oh really? Is that why I've bested you not once, but twice already?"

He saw Natasha's bunched fist fly towards his face, but he grabbed it in his hand before she made contact. "Case in point."

Natasha pulled back her hand and turned on her heel, her red hair flying. Clint followed her out of the room. "You, and this whole situation, are ridiculous. If you'd let me go, I would have been safe by now. Not here, left hiding away like some poor princess in a locked room."

Clint snorted. "In case you haven't realised, there are very, very few places you can hide where these people won't find you. You need me and the CIA to protect you."

Natasha laughed bitterly. "Are you serious? I was here a few hours and your mole put up a freaking homing beacon for those guys. You're putting me in more danger than anyone!"

Clint started to reply, but one second he heard the elevator doors open and the next, gunfire was upon them. He heard Natasha shriek and he tackled her, placing himself over her so she wouldn't be hit.

"What do we do?" she screamed, and Clint grabbed her. "You need to trust me," he yelled. She didn't look convinced, but Clint didn't give her time to argue.

Crawling to the closest room, Clint reached up and opened the door. He let Natasha crawl inside and then followed. Reaching to his belt, he pulled out a gun and started shooting the approaching men from the door entrance. From what he could count, there were at least eight of them. And that was probably just on this floor. He had no idea where all the agents were, but he couldn't dwell on that now. He needed to get Natasha to safety. First, they had to make it out of this hotel and to the car park.

_The balcony._

"Go over to the balcony, see if there are any men outside," Clint instructed, and Natasha nodded. Clint took out a few shooters, but he was running out of ammo and there seemed to be more coming.

"There's no one out there," Natasha yelled from across the room. "Now what?"

Clint turned to her and smiled. "Time to make another escape, Romanoff!"

Natasha looked at him for a second. "Are… are you coming with me?"

_She's frightened, _Clint observed. And for good reason. These men were killers. And they were all after her.

He nodded, and relief washed over Natasha's face. He smiled. "Hold on."

He grabbed the side table that was next to the entrance and jammed it up against the door. That should give them a couple of seconds to get out. Clint heard the men approaching the door and ran over to Natasha, who was waiting on the balcony. He looked down. A couple of floors below, Paris looked as normal as ever. There was no evidence of what was going on inside the hotel.

Clint turned Natasha toward him and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I'm going to jump down, and then you're going to hang off the ledge and drop, okay? I'll be right there to catch you."

Natasha simply nodded, and Clint smiled again. She was absolutely terrified, he could tell, but she would be safe to break down after they got out of the city. Clint climbed over the ledge and jumped to the ground floor, landing on his side in the bushes below. He had been taught in training how to jump from a distance, and this was as easy as it got. However, Natasha looked a little worried.

"I'm right here," Clint called. "You can do this."

He could hear banging on the door, and he started to panic. It looked like Natasha had frozen up. But she climbed over the ledge and worked her way down so she was hanging by her fingers. Gun shots rang out and she lost her grip, falling for the ground. Luckily, Clint was there as promised, and caught her perfectly. He stood her up and grabbed her hand, leading her towards the car park.

The car was right where he parked it, and the spare key was hidden under the muffler. Getting in, Clint and Natasha tore out of the park and into the Paris night.

* * *

**So although these do don't get along too well, Clint can understand that though Natasha is this strong, brave woman, this is something she has never had to go through before, so we'll be seeing a little more compassion from him soon.**

**Also, Natasha is beginning to realise that yeah, maybe she does need a bit of help. And yeah, maybe she should give Clint a chance. He did after all just save her life.**

**I'm going to start working on a steady camaraderie, because in order for these two to get along and work together, they need to be able to trust each other.**

**The next chapter shouldn't be too far away i hope. Anyway, read and review, tell me what you think! **


	7. On to Barcelona

**This chapter sort of sets the groundwork for their future communication. It allows them the decision to sort of give each other a chance, i suppose :)**

**I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Natasha was lost in thought when Barton's cell phone started ringing. She saw the confusion on his face as he answered it.

"Sir?" he asked. Natasha realised it was Director Bailey on the phone. She couldn't hear what the man was saying, but from the look on Clint's face, he wasn't telling them to turn around and go back. He hung up and glanced over at her.

"That was the Director. Somehow the mole was able to get the location of where you were staying, and the CIA took quite a hit. It's no longer secure. My orders are to get you off the grid as soon as possible and stay that way until we're told otherwise."

Natasha sighed. "So where are we going?"

Clint shrugged. "Anywhere but Paris. I have contacts out of the CIA that can help us, but it might take a while for them to set something up. I'll think of a plan for the mean time."

Natasha nodded in agreement, but then an idea struck her.

"You said off the grid, right? Is Barcelona far enough away for us to hide out?"

Clint furrowed his eyebrows. "Barcelona? That's awfully specific. Do you know someone there?"

Natasha averted her eyes. She didn't want to tell Clint about her safe houses; the whole point of them being safe houses was that no one else knew about them. If they went there, not only would the CIA know about it, but the cat would be out of the bag about her whole secret stash of gifts from her father. After all, she didn't even know if their acquirement was a hundred per cent legal.

She considered her predicament_. _

_Maybe I don't need to confess everything._

If she did allow Clint to take her to the house, there was no reason she had to tell him about all the others that were scattered across the globe – they only needed the one safe house for now. If it ended up being that they needed to relocate again, she would let him know about the other houses… in Europe. He didn't need to know about the rest. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

And if ever there was a time to let him in on it, this was definitely it. She needed to trust that Clint would keep this a secret from the CIA. As much as she hated to admit it, she now needed him to get her to safety; she just hoped that didn't require ratting out her safe house when this was over.

Clint pulled her out of her thoughts. "Natasha? Do you know someone in Barcelona? It isn't really a good idea to be contacting people you know. It's dangerous – for you and them."

She cleared her throat. "No, I don't know anyone from Barcelona… but I do have a safe house there."

Clint glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. "Explain," he said.

"Well… when I was growing up, I used to tell him how much I wanted to go to Spain. One day I got a letter in the mail that contained the deed to a house in Barcelona. It was a gift from him. He sent a note with it too, saying how if I ever needed to get away, that was the place to go."

A little white lie, sure. But it looked like he was buying it.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Clint asked. "Are you sure no one knows about it?"

"I'm sure." Of that, she was confident. She knew that if her father said it was a safe house, that's exactly what it was. "I'm the only person who knows about it besides my dad."

Clint looked sceptical, but he nodded. "Okay, Barcelona it is. Hopefully we won't be moving around much. You wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you."

Natasha recited the co-ordinates and Clint looked over at her again, raising his eyebrows.

"Photographic memory," Natasha said as way of explanation. Clint smiled.

"Of course. It's going to be a while before we get there, why don't you get some rest?"

Natasha sighed. "Sure… and thank you, by the way."

"For?"

"For saving my life. I would probably be dead if it wasn't for you."

Clint smiled. "It's what I do."

Natasha smiled and turned her head toward the window. As soon as her face was hidden from Barton's view, her smile disappeared.

The adrenaline from earlier had now worn off. She felt drained in more ways than one, but couldn't close her eyes.

She'd almost died tonight. Never in her whole life would she have anticipated being chased down and shot at for the sake of being bait. She had always considered herself a tough person, a woman who wasn't afraid of anything. But she'd been proven wrong. Today had been the most frightening day of her life, and it was probably only the beginning.

She felt tears welling up, but she refused to let them fall. She was still strong. She could get through this.

And she had Barton with her. If he couldn't protect her, no one could. She still hated the fact she needed him in the first place, but sometimes sacrifice was necessary. In this case, the only things being sacrificed were her pride and independence, not to mention her freedom.

Of course, she was a little glad that she wasn't going at this alone now. And if she was being honest, Barton was good company. She felt… safe. She still didn't trust him – hell, she didn't even know much about him. But of one thing she was sure: he would do his job. He would protect her.

That thought was comfort enough for her. She soon closed her eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

When Natasha's breathing evened out, Clint looked over at her. Since he'd met her, he'd never thought of her as weak. That was the last word he would use to describe her. But as she slept, she looked… vulnerable. Also not a word he would use to describe her, but there it was all the same.

If he was being honest, he felt bad for her. Here was a strong woman who had been beaten down by something she had no reason for being involved with in the first place. It wasn't fair on her that she should have to put her life on pause and hide underground because of people she had done nothing to. She'd said this type of thing was inevitable, but she was not prepared to take on something like this; especially not alone. It wasn't fair that the only parent she ever had was never around because he was serving his country. Yeah, he gave her lots of things: skills, a house, whatever. But what he didn't give her was important too: a present parent, a solid relationship.

Clint was well aware of how much John loved Natasha. Almost every time they had trained, John had bragged about how quickly his daughter had caught on to some technique, or how little time it had taken her to master Mandarin when she was only eight. He didn't say those things to be mean, or rub it in, of course; he'd just loved to tell people about how proud he was of his little girl. It was just unfortunate that he hadn't been around to watch a school play or hear about how well she did in a spelling bee or something.

His mother might have been an alcoholic, but she was there at every major stepping stone in his life, and he was thankful for that. And not only had he had a loving mother, but he'd gained a father figure in John. In fact, he'd probably spent more time with him than his own daughter, and he was sympathetic with Natasha. They were both from complicated backgrounds, which made it so hard for her to trust anyone, including him.

It would take some time, and he wasn't willing to push it. But he respected Natasha, and wanted her to know for herself that he would keep her safe - not only for her father, but for her. She was meant for something other than being the caged daughter of an agent. He would make sure that she would get back to her life, just as it was before.

* * *

As Clint had suspected, all he had to do was flash his ID at the border and all was fine. By the time he reached the city of Barcelona, it was just after dawn. Clint made his way to the co-ordinates Natasha gave him, and when he found what he was looking for, he wasn't surprised. This was for his little girl after all.

The co-ordinates belonged to a beautiful villa not far from the beach. It was in a neighbourhood filled with other extravagant houses. He pulled up next to the main gate, where he found a code pad.

_Crap. What the hell could the code- oh. Of course._

Natasha's birthday, perhaps? Clint racked his brain for it. A moment later he punched in the digits and sure enough, the gate opened up.

Clint shook his head and grinned. "Wow. How he managed to hide this house from the CIA is a mystery."

He drove up the driveway and came to a stop outside the front door. He didn't know if there would be a key anywhere, so he got out of the car to look. Checking under the pot plant next to the door, he found what he was looking for.

"Not a very crafty hiding place, John," he muttered as he picked it up. He pushed it into the lock and turned it, and the door opened, revealing a modern living area and a staircase. Clint stared back at Natasha, who was still asleep in the car.

He decided to let her keep sleeping. He walked over to the passenger door and slowly opened it. Undoing her seatbelt, he lifted her in his arms and carried her into the house, where he proceeded to take her upstairs. He opened the first door he saw, which revealed a large bedroom. The sun was beginning to shine through the windows.

He took her to the bed and opened the covers before setting her down and taking off her shoes. He then pulled the blankets over her and walked over to close the curtains. He turned around and looked at her sleeping peacefully. He smiled.

"Welcome home, I guess."

* * *

**Welp, they're officially off the grid!**

**The next couple of chapters will be these two building some kind of trust for each other. It might be a little slow, so bare with me :)**

**Read and review, let me know what you think! x**


	8. Valentina

**So sorry for the slow updates, but here you go :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything.**

* * *

_He pinned her to the ground, his hands wrapping around her wrists. His legs were on either side of her thighs, pressing against her lightly…_

_They were both breathing heavily, and she could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. She looked into his eyes, watched him study her. Then he bent his head down to kiss her._

_His lips were soft – softer than she thought they would be. And boy, did he know what to do with them…_

_He kissed her lips, her neck, made his way down to her shoulder, her chest and her stomach, then lower still…_

_She closed her eyes and enjoyed his touches. His hands were caressing her thighs and slowly willing them to open and she gasped as she felt his tongue-_

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

Natasha was startled out of her dream by a shriek.

_Probably a good thing… that was way too intense. _

She would need to have a long talk with herself later.

It took her a moment to remember what had happened and looked around the room. None of it was familiar, so she could only assume that Barton had found the safe house. Either that or he'd lucked out and found somewhere else.

However, that was not the current problem. Whoever had screamed clearly didn't expect them to be, well, wherever they were. She was beginning to doubt whether Barton had actually found the safe house. There was a chance he'd had to take her somewhere completely different. She stumbled out of bed and walked over to the door. Opening it, she could hear a woman cursing in rapid Spanish, and who she guessed was Barton trying to calm her down in the same tongue.

When she walked over to the staircase railing, she saw that she had guessed correctly. Barton was in the living area below her and he was holding his hands in a defensive position, while a woman who looked to be in her thirties continued yelling.

_What the hell is going on, _Natasha thought to herself and cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, but could someone tell me what is happening? Are we in the right house?" she asked in Spanish.

The woman turned her head to focus her cursing on Natasha, but faltered when she looked at her.

"Miss Romanoff?" The woman asked, almost cautiously.

"Yes, that's my name. How do you know who I am? Who are you?"

The woman blushed and replied to her in English. "I apologise for my animosity. My name is Valentina; I take care of your house. I've been doing it for almost ten years now. I know your father, you see, and he gave me this job. Of course, I didn't know anyone would be here, and when I came in this morning this man was standing in the kitchen. Now that I know he is with you, I will leave and give you two some privacy."

The woman, Valentina, smiled shyly and started walking toward the front door, but Natasha stopped her.

"Wait," she called, and made her way downstairs. "You know my father?"

Valentina nodded. "He helped me a very long time ago. And then gave me a job even though he didn't need to. He is a very good man."

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. She'd never met anyone who could tell her things about her dad. She wanted to know more, wanted to learn what she could about him.

"Um, do you have to leave? Could you maybe tell me more about how my father helped you? How you met him?"

Valentine smiled again, and Natasha really took in her appearance. She was incredibly attractive, but was obviously very modest about it – no make-up, plain clothes. But she was a genuine beauty, and Natasha saw that she had kind eyes to match.

"Of course. There are clothes in the upstairs closet that I'm sure are your size. Why don't you wash up and I'll prepare some breakfast."

"Oh no, you don't need to do that," Natasha started, but Valentina raised her hand.

"It is what I'm paid for, Miss Romanoff. And if there is anything else you need, do not hesitate to ask."

Natasha smiled warmly. "Thank you. And please, call me Natasha."

* * *

With Natasha upstairs, Barton was left alone with Valentina, who made her way around the kitchen to begin cooking. He didn't really know what to say to her, so remained quiet while she concentrated.

He thought about the ambush. The mole was definitely high up the ranks if he was able to get Natasha's location so quickly. But as long as he kept her inside this house, she would be safe. At some point he would need to go into town and call one of his agents, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He knew how to bounce calls, so there would be no danger of being traced. Besides, he trusted his agents with his life. They knew what was at stake and would act accordingly.

Valentina spoke and he focused his attention toward her.

"So, how long have you and Miss Romanoff been together?" she asked.

"Uhh…" How should he go about this? Lie? Say they were together? There would be no other way to explain why they were here, and there was no way she would know about John's profession… no, better give as much of the truth as possible.

"Actually, we're not-" he began, but was cut off.

"Ah. You are agent?" she asked casually. "Why does Miss Romanoff need an agent with her?"

She turned toward him and put a hand on her hip. "Is Mr Graham in danger? Is Miss Romanoff?"

Clint raised his eyebrows. "You know about what John does?"

Valentina shrugged. "How do you think he helped me in the first place? So, what is wrong? Are they in danger? Do you need help?"

Clint shook his head. "No no, we don't need any help. John isn't exactly in trouble. He's off the grid at the moment. He took something that could be deadly in the wrong hands."

Valentina looked worried but Clint continued.

"The people he took it from are… bad, to say the least and they could come after Natasha as a way of manipulating John. She needs to stay off the grid until he gets back with what he took and she can be put into protective custody. That's why we came here. Apparently, she and her father were the only ones who knew about this house. I guess John lied."

Valentina sighed. "I told him this would happen. Do not worry though, agent. I am the only other person who knows about the owner of this house. Everybody else thinks it belongs to some rich business owner or something. And I would never do anything to jeopardise John or his daughter's safety. I owe him my life. I would never betray him, or Miss Romanoff."

Clint smiled. "I appreciate your loyalty. I just want to make sure we won't need to leave because these guys are able to find her."

Valentina shook her head. "I assure you, she is perfectly safe here. No one else knows who this house belongs to. John made sure of that. And I will make sure no one knows you are here."

"Thank you very much," he replied, and she smiled.

* * *

"So," she said after a couple of minutes. She had just finished cooking all the breakfast foods under the sun and was setting them on the table. "Have you known Miss Romanoff long?"

Clint moved to the kitchen to help bring the food out. "Actually, I haven't known her more than a day. We didn't meet under the best circumstances either… it's been a little tense."

Valentina laughed. "Oh, I can imagine just how tense it has been."

Clint furrowed his eyebrows. "I didn't mean it that way-"

"You didn't mean what that way?" Natasha asked as she made her way downstairs. She looked right at home in what looked like a brand new sundress. It was a dark blue that highlighted the fiery colour of her hair. Clint realised he was staring, and cleared his throat.

"Um… nothing. We were just talking about…"

"How you two met," Valentina finished for him. She had an innocent smile on her face.

"Oh," Natasha responded, and sighed. "I suppose it wasn't the best of introductions, was it?"

Clint chuckled. "Yeah, well. They weren't the best circumstances."

Natasha looked over at the table and her eyes grew wide. "Oh, wow, Valentina. You cooked all this? It looks amazing. Thank you so much."

Valentina smiled again. "You are most welcome. Please, enjoy. I'm going to tidy up the house."

"No, please, won't you join us?" Natasha asked, but Valentina looked sceptical.

"I don't want to impose. I made this for you and your guest, Miss Romanoff."

"Natasha," she corrected with a smile. "And I insist."

* * *

When the food was gone and the three of them were content, Natasha decided now was the time to ask questions. Before she could begin, Barton excused himself from the table.

"I'm going to freshen up, maybe get some sleep," he said to her, and she nodded.

"There are men's clothes here also, agent. Feel free to make them yours," Valentina offered, and Clint smiled.

"Thank you, Valentina." As he walked past, he spoke quietly to Natasha.

"If something doesn't feel right, or you think something is wrong, don't hesitate to let me know." He made his way upstairs, and she followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight.

She really needed to get her head in the right place. First, the erotic dream, and now following his every movement like some infatuated school girl? She was Natasha Romanoff; she didn't need to do stuff like that. Guys came to her. Besides, Barton was off limits. He might be good looking, but he was still CIA. And she only trusted one agent from the CIA - barely.

Yeah, Barton had gotten her here safely, and she was very grateful, but who knew how long this would last? Thinking about it, this could all be a way to gain her trust and then hand her over when her back was turned. The mole was someone high up, someone with a title. He was a definite contender, and she had to be careful. She couldn't trust him, not until she knew for sure that he was indeed clean. Her father had drilled it into her head not to trust anyone unless she knew they had no ulterior motive, that they were who they said they were. She might have to do some investigating, maybe follow him if he left the house or something, just to make sure he wasn't dabbling in evil schemes. She felt like he was someone who wouldn't do the wrong thing, but until she could say with complete certainty that his only aim was her safety, she was keeping her walls up, just in case. She would think more on it later.

_Back to the task at hand for now._

"Valentina," Natasha said as the older woman began stacking the plates. "How did you know who I was?"

Valentina laughed. "I would know that hair anywhere. Besides, your father visited here a few years ago and left a few photos of you. You are a little older now, but I could tell it was you."

Her father had visited here. She wondered if he'd visited the other places he'd given her.

"So how did you meet my father?"

Valentina turned toward Natasha. "Let's just say I was in a bad place, and your father found me in time to help. I owe him my life."

Natasha nodded. Obviously it wasn't something Valentina liked to talk about, so she wouldn't push her.

"Where are the photos my father brought?" Natasha asked a few moments later.

"In the office," Valentina replied. "Would you like me to show you?"

"Yes please," Natasha replied. Valentina nodded and gestured for her to follow. They walked across the lounge to a small hallway, and Valentina stopped in front of the second door to the right. She opened the door, and led Natasha inside.

The office was beautifully arranged, very open and modern, with light furniture. The sun poured directly into the room, showering everything in soft rays. Natasha moved over to the desk that had a couple of frames on it, and picked one up.

The photo was her high school picture. Her red hair was tied back and she was smiling. She was about fourteen. Natasha chuckled, and her eyes brimmed with tears.

She wasn't indestructible. She was human. And right now, she missed her father more than anything, even though they were never close. However he was a good father considering, and she prayed that he would find her soon, comfort her in this horrible situation and tell her everything would go back to the way it was. Maybe after all this, they'd finally be able to have a real relationship. She knew her life would be the same as it was before this all happened, but it didn't stop her from hoping. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and turned to see Valentina standing beside her, her face filled with sympathy.

"I'm not really the crying type," Natasha said. "But everything is just… out of my control. And there's nothing I can do about it. My father is in hiding, and the man assigned to protect me is someone I don't even know. There's no one I can really trust."

"I grew up without a parent too," Valentina spoke after a moment. "My father passed when I was a child, and my mother was not… well, she had her problems. But I am glad that you have grown up to be such a beautiful, smart woman. Your father is no doubt very proud." Natasha gave a small smile in repsonse.

_I just wish he was here to tell me that himself._

* * *

**I decided that because these two are in hiding together, I wanted another character that was an outside, objective source who could get along with them. **

**I also know that I showed a vulnerable side to Natasha in the last chapter, but I wanted to show how sort of damaged she is too. She hasn't had a constant parent figure in her life since her grandparents, and the fact that she's pretty much alone in a bad situation has to be getting to her. Plus, she doesn't know who to trust, with good reason considering her life is on the line.**

**Plus, although Clint and Natasha can admit they're attracted to each other, they are both so in their own heads atm; Natasha is, understandably, paranoid that he could be screwing with her, while Clint is keeping the fact that he was trained by her father a secret. The reason I did this is because I want these two to have a sort of connection without one really knowing about it, if you get what I mean haha. By having Clint keep this a secret, he has all this knowledge about Natasha that she isn't aware of.**

**Sorry for the rant haha, read, review, let me know what you thought! :) x**


	9. Baby Steps

**Hey guys, another chapter is here! This chapter is sort of sowing the seeds for Clint and Natasha's friendship, so I hope you like it :)**

* * *

When Clint woke up, the evening sun was shining in his room. He could smell food cooking, so quickly went for a shower and grabbed some clothes. The ones in the house were, surprisingly, a perfect fit, and he grabbed a black shirt and some jeans. Despite the sun about to set, the air was still humid, and would probably remain that way for a while.

He made his way downstairs and found Natasha at the table, moving food around on her plate. Valentina was cleaning in the kitchen, and smiled at him as he grabbed a seat across from Natasha. Just like this morning, plates of food were set on the table, and he dug right in. As soon as he finished, Valentina came along and started taking the leftovers to the kitchen. Both he and Natasha stood to help but she waved them away.

"I do not work much because nobody is ever here. I am enjoying being able to actually cook and clean for people instead of dust every day. Please, sit down," she said.

They sat back in their seats, listening to cupboards opening and dishes clanking. Clint looked over at Natasha and noticed her deep in thought. He furrowed his eyebrows. Maybe this could be an opportunity for them to build some sort of relationship.

"What?" Natasha asked suddenly without looking at him.

"What?" He asked in return.

"Why are you staring at me?" She asked, looking up at him. He raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think I'm staring at you?"

Natasha snorted and raised her eyebrows, so he sighed. "Fine, I was staring. You looked like you were thinking about something pretty deep and I was going to ask what it was."

She remained silent and Clint was curious to know what she was thinking about. Just then, Valentina walked over to the table.

"I'm finished for the day, but I'll be back tomorrow morning. Goodnight Miss Romanoff, agent Barton."

They said their goodbyes and sat silently as Valentina left the house.

"You gonna tell me or what?" he asked when the door closed, and she gave him an exasperated look.

"Why would I do that?" she asked. He shrugged. "You look like you need to talk about something."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Why would I talk to you about it? I could just talk to Valentina if I wanted to."

"Alright, whatever you want. I'm here if you want to talk though," Clint said, and stood up from the table.

"Wait," Natasha said quietly. He turned to glance over at her. She looked upset, so he sat back down.

"What's on your mind?" He asked casually and Natasha sighed.

"How long have you been an agent?" she asked.

_Random question, but at least we're getting somewhere, _Clint thought to himself. _Baby steps._

"Uh… about thirteen years," he answered after thinking about it. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity, I guess. How did you become one?"

Clint thought it over. He supposed it was only fair that he give her some information about himself - especially since he already knew so much about her.

"When my mother passed away I had no more family. The CIA prefers people who don't have any ties, and I fit the bill."

Natasha looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry. How old were you?"

"I was a toddler when my dad died. My mom passed away when I started college. I didn't really know what to do, so when they approached me I accepted. Best decision I ever made." "

Natasha just lookeed at him and he raised his eyebrows. "Not the answer you were looking for?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just… do you ever wish you'd become something else?"

Clint thought it over. Being in the CIA was the only thing he really knew. There had been times when he'd wondered what he'd be doing if he hadn't been asked to join, but he'd never regretted accepting.

"No, I love what I do. I have the knowledge and skills that people wish they had. I get to travel the world and serve my country. I couldn't think of a better way to live, to be honest." He smiled, and Natasha lowered her eyes. She sighed again.

"When I think about my dad, I realise I barely know anything about him. I know that he's an agent for the CIA and that's about it. All the training, that's how I communicated with him. That's pretty much the only thing we ever discussed. Honestly, I feel like I was nothing more than a project to him. I just… I wish that he'd taken the time to get to know his own daughter, because now I feel like I've lost both my parents. From what you just said, I can only assume it's the most important thing in the world to him. But where does that leave me?"

Clint cleared his throat. She didn't know it, but she was only half right. She didn't know her father, but Clint knew for a fact that John loved his daughter with all his heart. He might not have been around that much, and that was unfortunate, but his job was not his top priority. She was his world. Clint remembered how John was when he talked about her. His pride in her was evident, but only around Clint would he hear the longing in his voice as well. Whenever Clint heard John like that, he sometimes wondered if he still wanted to be where he was.

Should he tell her that she was wrong about her dad? He was tempted to tell her that he knew her father loved her and cared about her, but how would she react? They were slowly building their relationship through this conversation, and he didn't want to compromise it by revealing to her how he not only knew her father personally, but trained under him and was pretty much informed of every event in her life?

Not a good idea. He would probably bring it up at some point, but not right now. She was upset, no need to make it worse.

"You haven't lost him," he finally said, and she looked up at him. He continued.

"I know you think you're not important to him, but trust me when I say that you are. If I had a daughter as smart and bright as you, I would tell every person I met how amazing you are. Believe me, he loves you - more than you know. Your father knows how special you are; he's lucky to have you."

Natasha cocked her head to the side and continued to look at him, and he looked back at her. This was the first time she had allowed him in, and he was glad he was getting to know her better. This woman had so many different layers though; he didn't know where to begin. She was tough, witty, closed off, and then she was open and vulnerable. The only side he had yet to see was her flirty and seductive side. He had a feeling it was just as dangerous as the rest of her, if not worse. He focused his attention on her, but she was in her own thoughts. Funnily enough, a small smile appeared on her face.

"Did you think of something amusing?" he asked, and she jumped. Her face went red, and he realised she was blushing.

He laughed. "Are you blushing?" Her face went even redder and she glared at him.

"Shut up. You gave me a fright," she snapped. He laughed again.

"You were just smiling. What were you thinking about?"

Natasha didn't say anything. Instead she stood up and turned away from the table.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight," she said. She walked upstairs without a backward glance, and Clint was left alone.

Tonight felt like a step up. She was slowly letting her guard down around him, something he appreciated. He wanted her to trust him more than he really knew why. They'd had a decent conversation, and he was learning things about her that John could never tell him. Like her habit of losing focus every now and then, and the way she showed all her emotions on her face without realising.

He smiled. The way they were going, they'd be good in no time.

* * *

_Oh my god._

Natasha closed her bedroom door and leaned back on it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She couldn't be more embarrassed. And that was the ridiculous thing: she was freaking _embarrassed._

She didn't get embarrassed, especially not in front of guys. Guys got embarrassed in front of her. But Barton… he'd gotten to her.

When he was being comforting instead of annoying, and telling her how he was sure her father loved her and how special she was, she started to see him in a different light, and she didn't like the effect it had on her. She could imagine him being sweet to her all the time, comforting her when she was sad and kissing away her pain.

_Ugh._

She must be going insane. She needed to get her shit together. This was Barton she was thinking about. He was a smug, irksome, pest of a man who she wasn't even sure she should trust.

But he'd been so considerate and understanding before, she'd forgotten about all of those things... and that was unacceptable.

She felt happy knowing she'd learned something about him and they were getting along, but why was she being a dork?

She needed to get him out of her system. It was probably because he was a really attractive guy that she'd been around constantly for the past couple of days. And add to that the fact he was still pretty much a mystery to her. Surely, if she just didn't talk to him more than necessary, she'd stop thinking about him in such stupid ways.

She could never let him know that she was blushing over _him_, or he'd never let her hear the end of it.

If she acted indifferent he would go back to being the nuisance of a babysitter she'd come to tolerate. Her perception of him would be back to normal. It was as simple as that.

She was not going soft on Barton any time soon.

Not if she could help it.

* * *

**Aaahhh, Natasha... looks like someone is in denial. So, the two of them have started to actually make an effort, so hopefully they improve some time soon.**

**I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you thought! :)**


	10. Under Suspicion

**Sorry for the slow updates. Unfortunately my laptop is on the fritz so i can't really write atm because it keeps overheating :'(**

**Fortunately i managed to finish the latest chapter without it turning off, so i'll have to give it a rest for a while after this...**

**Someone mentioned something to me in a review about how these two would most likely train together, and i realised they're right. So i've veered off my original storyline a tad so we can see these two interact through training. Btw thank you to whoever mentioned it :)**

**Also, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to those who have reviewed, followed, favourited etc. I really didn't know if people would like this story, but i'm happy you do so thanks for the support!**

**Okey doke that is enough outta me. Enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

**One week later**

Clint was growing frustrated.

It had been a little over a week and he was bored with being a babysitter. No offense to Natasha of course, but he was not the kind of person that could sit still for long. Last night while he'd been lying in bed, he'd made the decision to get in contact with one of his agents and find out what was going on. He'd be careful of course, and it wouldn't take long to get a little update on the situation. He needed to be certain he wasn't missing any new leads.

But alongside contacting the team, Clint had been thinking about something else.

Natasha -more specifically, her behaviour toward him since their talk. He thought that they had made some kind of ground, growing more accustomed to each other, but where he took a step forward it seemed as if she'd decided to take a step back. The only times he'd seen her was when Valentina had prepared meals, and she either sat there in silence, or only acknowledged him with single syllables. He'd knocked on her door a couple of times and she'd politely asked him to leave her alone.

Maybe the circumstances were getting to her more than he thought. He'd tried talking to her but she wouldn't have any of it. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was avoiding him, but he guessed it was something else. Why would she possibly want to avoid him? They were definitely in a good, stable place. He'd leave her be for now, but if she kept it up he'd have to confront her. After all, he was a little worried about her.

Clint brought his focus back to the task for today. He saw earlier that there was a black Lexus and a silver Volkswagen in the garage, and he'd soon found the sets of keys in the office. His plan was to drive to the outskirts of Barcelona and call one of his agents to get an update, see where the CIA was so far in the search for the mole. He didn't think he'd find anything new, but it was killing him not knowing everything. As long as Natasha stayed in the house she would be fine, and he made sure of that by not letting her know he was leaving the house - pretty easy considering she was barely making an effort to communicate with him. As soon as he heard from his team, he'd come back and she'd be none the wiser.

He paused for a moment, going over the plan. He was troubled for a moment about how she would react if she realised he was keeping this from her, but reconsidered. If he timed it well, she would never know. He'd go tonight, after she'd had dinner. She'd be in her room for the rest of the night, and he'd be free to leave for a few hours and call the team. He'd call Cane; he was the agent he was closest to in his team. They'd been through a lot together, and he knew he could count on him.

It was decided. He would go tonight, after Natasha retreated upstairs for the night and Valentina went home. Everything would be fine. She wouldn't even suspect a thing.

* * *

Natasha sat across from Barton while they ate dinner. She'd asked Valentina to join them, but she'd declined as usual and was currently fussing around in the kitchen. She looked over at Barton with narrowed eyes. She'd been avoiding him all week, trying to make herself forget those ridiculous thoughts that popped into her head when she was around him. But tonight she didn't need to worry about that, for something else was on her mind.

Barton was hiding something from her.

She didn't know how she knew it, but she could feel that he was keeping something a secret. She wouldn't say she was an expert on him or anything, but she'd learned enough about him in the past week and a bit to get a feel for the guy. Lately he had been trying to get her to talk to him, strike up conversations with Valentina in the hope that she'd take part in them. Tonight, however, he'd been pretty quiet - too quiet. Too… causal. He wasn't being his usual inquisitive self, and she was suspicious.

She was tempted to ask him about it, but he'd just deny it. And then he might not give anything away because he'd have his guard up. So instead she would keep an eye on him for a couple of days, see if she could pick up on anything while he had his guard down.

She rose from the table and he glanced up at her.

"I'm going to bed," she announced. "Thank you for dinner Valentina, it was amazing as always."

Valentina smiled. "You're welcome Miss Romanoff, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've just got a little cleaning to do and then I'll be going. You have a good night."

Natasha smiled warmly in response. "I will. I'll see you tomorrow."

She smiled politely at Barton and made her way upstairs. She walked over to her bedroom door and closed it from the outside, and then sneaked into the hallway to spy on him.

He took his plate out to the kitchen where Valentina was cleaning up and then made his way to the living room to watch television. Ten minute later, when Valentina called out to say she was leaving, Barton said goodbye and she closed the front door behind her. Once the door slammed, Natasha saw him walk quickly to the office.

_What is he up to? _She wondered.

Barton walked back up and she saw that he had the keys that belonged to one of her cars in the garage. She furrowed her eyebrows, and then quickly hid herself around the corner when she saw Barton look upwards. Her door could be seen from where he was standing. He was checking to make sure it was closed. The door that led to the garage couldn't be heard when her door was shut and she realised he was going to sneak out.

But sneak out where?

She had to follow him. She had no idea where he planned on going, but she was going to find out. She saw him go into the living area again and she quietly waited for him to come back into view. When he did, jacket in hand, he gave one last look upstairs and walked silently out of the living area towards the garage door. She heard the almost inaudible click of the lock, and then made her way back downstairs. With the garage on the opposite side of the house, she could only just hear one of the cars starting up.

She ran to the office and headed for the top desk draw that held the keys she'd found while digging around in the office. She spotted the VW keys and grabbed them.

She ran down the hallway to the garage and opened the door, where she found the Lexus missing. She unlocked the VW and jumped in, starting the motor as she put her belt on. The Lexus was probably down the next street by now, so she would have to keep an eye out for him. Lucky enough, as she got to the first traffic lights she spotted the Lexus three cars ahead. When the light turned green, she began tailing Barton.

Because it was quite dark, Natasha was able to follow him safely without being too easy to spot, and she continued to follow him for about an hour. At one point, she had let him get so far ahead that she'd sped through a red light to catch up. She'd barely kept him in sight. She was getting nervous, and her palms had begun to sweat on the steering wheel.

Why was Barton sneaking around? Was he hiding something?

Was he the mole?

Just the thought made Natasha's blood run cold. She didn't want it to be true. She'd trusted this man with her life. She'd let him in on her safe house and opened up to him about something personal. She'd even developed some sort of… attachment to him - barely. If he turned out to be the person putting her in danger, she'd kill him herself.

Just then, he pulled into the car park of a dairy outside of the city. Natasha pulled over across the road and watched him get out. He walked into the shop and disappeared down an aisle, and then she watched him approach the counter. He walked out and got back into the car.

_What the hell are you up to Barton?_

* * *

Clint opened the burner phone he'd just bought and put a special sim in that blocked the GPS co-ordinates. He then got out his cell phone and dialled Cane's number.

Cane answered on the first ring. "Cane," he said as a greeting.

"Cane, its Barton. Don't let anybody know who you're talking to."

Cane cleared his throat. "Adams, how are you feeling?"

Barton heard a door close and then lowered his voice. "Sir? Are you alright? Is Miss Romanoff?"

Barton sighed. "Yeah, she's fine. So am I. Is there anything new on the mole hunt?"

"No," Cane replied. "We've managed to get all the firewalls replaced in headquarters, and the mole has been silent since you left with the girl. There haven't been any more attacks, so they know she's gone. Are you safe? Do you need back up?"

"No, I'm just curious as to what's going on. I haven't heard anything since the ambush and I wanted an update. So there's no word on who the mole is? No leads?"

"Nothing," Cane answered. "But it's definitely someone high up. You need to keep her safe until Agent Graham gets back and the Russians are taken down. It's not safe anywhere. The latest Intel we got after you left was that the mole has managed to get the Russians access to cameras everywhere; ATM cameras, traffic cameras, security cameras - all over the place. One sniff of her and they'll be there, so you need to keep her hidden away, for her safety and yours."

"Don't worry, she's-" Clint was saying when he glanced in her rear view mirror. "Oh no."

"What's wrong?" Cane asked urgently.

Sitting across the road, barely visible, was the silver Volkswagen he'd left in the garage. Of course, there were probably thousands of them. What gave her away was that hair. Even in the dim light he could see it.

"I can't believe this. She followed me."

"Get her out of there. Do you need help? I can get the team-"

"No offense Cane, but you know I can't tell you where we are unless absolutely necessary."

"Of course," Cane replied. "Just know that the team's loyalties lie with you Sir."

"I appreciate it. I'll call you when she's back off the grid."

Cane agreed and Clint hung up. He was furious. He couldn't believe-

Actually yes, yes he could believe that she'd follow him.

But he couldn't worry about that now. He needed to get her home without being seen. There were cameras everywhere, and they had been here a while. It was alright if he was spotted; as an agent of his title, his profile wasn't easy to find. Hers on the other hand…

Just as he stepped out of the car, two SUVs pulled up next to Natasha. One parked in front of her, while the other one parked right behind her, boxing her in. He hesitated for a second before running at full speed across the parking lot to her car. He could see four men getting out of each one and a couple of them saw him sprinting over. He saw Natasha being pulled out of the driver's seat and he ran even faster, only to stop short when bullets began flying at him. He quickly ducked behind the nearest car and pulled out his gun. As he looked around, he saw Natasha take down one of the men, then another, only for a third to spin her around by her shoulder and hit her hard in the face. Her head flew back; she immediately stopped moving and fell to the ground.

"No!" Clint shouted, and fired at the men.

He hit one or two, but only one fell to the ground. The other managed to get into one of the SUVs. Natasha was now nowhere to be seen, and Clint could only assume she'd been thrown into one of them. Shots continued to be fired at him as they drove away, and Clint stood up long enough to shoot the back of the SUVs. It did nothing but leave a few holes, and they sped off into the night.

Clint stood there in disbelief. He ran back to the car and grabbed the cell phone. When he dialled, Cane answered on the first ring.

"Sir?" he asked.

"I need your help," Clint said, panicking. He couldn't believe he was saying this.

"I've lost her."

* * *

**Aw sheeeeeiit, not good. How is he going to find her?**

**Side note: I wanted it to be known that Barton is a highly respected agent and man, hence the reason for Cane stating the team's loyalty. They'd do anything for this guy, and they have. I just wanted readers to know that Barton isn't without support, despite being off the grid. They trust each other wholeheartedly, team and leader.**

**I hope you liked it. Read and review away, love you guys! :) x**


	11. Rescue

**I'm really sorry I left the last chapter as a cliffhanger, I hope you'll forgive me with an extra long chapter :)**

**I just want to apologise in advance because I have never been to France, therefore have pretty much made up my own kinda set up. You'll understand soon enough haha**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He couldn't fucking believe it.

In all his years of being an agent, he had never been in this position. He'd gotten to where he was because he was the best and didn't make mistakes. But that was over now. And of course it had to be Natasha to break his streak.

As he waited for Cane to come back on the line, his mind was only focused on her. He wasn't worried about what his boss or the agency would say. He wasn't worried about his job being on the line. He wasn't even worried about what John would think of him, although that should definitely be high up on his list of things to worry about. No, the only thing he was worried about was if Natasha was alright.

He knew they wouldn't kill her, but they had other ways of making her suffer, and just the thought of her being hurt made the hairs on his neck stand on end. There was no excuse for what had happened; he'd been impatient and because of that, Natasha had been kidnapped and was now who knew where. That's why he now needed the help of his team. He couldn't find her on his own, he needed resources. He didn't care if Bailey found out he'd lost her, but Cane had said they'd keep it a secret unless necessary. At the moment he was looking into traffic cameras, trying to find out where the SUVs had gone.

Clint shook his head to clear it, but it wasn't working. He'd pretty much just let them take her. He should have tried harder. Part of his job was putting his life at risk; he should have done that tonight. Instead he allowed himself to get put in a bad spot and Natasha was put in serious danger as a consequence. She'd been slowly beginning to trust him and he'd just blasted that to pieces. She'd never forgive him now.

Cane came back on the line and Clint managed to pull his attention away from his protectee.

"We tracked the SUVs. They're on their way into France," Cane said coolly. "They're getting her as far away from Barcelona as possible."

"Where are they headed?" he demanded.

"We'll give you the location when they stop, Sir. You might as well start on their tail and cross the border."

Clint agreed, and kept Cane on the line while he followed the road signs back into France. It would take a little while to get there, and he was in no mood to be left alone to his thoughts. About thirty minutes later, Cane had Natasha's location.

"It looks like they're heading for Perpignan, which is about another hour away from you. There's an airport there; the team is going to fly down to assist, Sir."

"Did you inform Bailey?" Clint asked.

"Negative. He's in a meeting at the moment, no need to disturb him. He won't even know we're gone."

"I appreciate it. But how do you know they're going for Perpignan?"

"The cameras have picked up the SUVs on the main highway that leads into Perpignan. If they'd been going anywhere else we assume they would have turned off earlier. They're still a while away from it."

What were they doing? Trying to lose him? But then he thought about it a little more. Perpignan probably had the closest airport to the border, and they were in a hurry to lose him. If he was in their position, he'd want to get her out of the way of threats as soon as possible. And what better way to do that than fly her out?

"How long will you be?" Clint asked urgently.

"We're preparing the jet now. We should land in about an hour. You're quite a way out of Perpignan, but the target is as well. We'll probably get in the same time as you."

Clint thought it over. "I think I know what they're up to. While you're on the plane I want you to check the planned flights coming into the airport; check for any private or cargo planes. I think they're going to fly her out of France."

Cane agreed and they hung up, leaving Clint to his thoughts once again. He was sure they were going to try and escape by plane, but he could not let that happen. He had to save Natasha. She was relying on him, and he didn't want to fail her - not again. He would make absolute certain that she could trust him. And he would make sure he dealt with the men who took her.

The phone rang another thirty minutes later and Clint answered on the first ring. The jet was making good time, but unfortunately so were the men who took Natasha. Clint wasn't a great deal behind them; however he started to doubt that he'd make it in time to stop them. But Cane gave him some hope.

"I checked over the plane records. They might be beating you to the airport, but it says here there's a cargo plane scheduled to arrive from-"

"Russia?" Clint guessed.

"Affirmative. That's their way out. But it doesn't land for another two hours."

"Giving us a window big enough to rescue her," Clint murmured. By the time everyone landed at the airport, they'd have more than enough time to search the airport and find Natasha.

"Any sightings on the SUVs again?" he asked. Clint heard Cane tapping the keyboard.

"Your theory was accurate. I just caught them on a traffic camera; they've turned off toward the airport."

"Great. Once the team lands, I want you and the guys spreading out and searching the area. Understood?"

Cane responded with a "Yes, Sir" and hung up. Another twenty minutes later and Clint was in Perpignan. It didn't take much longer to arrive at the airport. Clint parked away from the main lot and got out of his car.

The dark night was highlighted by the neon beacons along the runway, and the nearer area held a couple of commercial planes preparing for their flights. There were a few men on this side of the airport, and Clint looked over at what appeared to be several small hangars further away from where he was standing. If he had to guess, Natasha was being kept somewhere inside while they waited for their ride. He was tempted to go in there alone but he didn't know how many people were in there, and now was not the time to be reckless.

Luckily he didn't need to wait too long, for across the other side he watched the jet that held his men come into land. He got back in the car and drove over to the back entrance. Flashing his ID, he made his way in and met up with his team once again. Cane, Adams and Davis were in their field gear; Clint was happy to see them. He quickly outlined what was to happen, and they silently walked over to the hangars. They had about an hour to get Natasha out of here and disappear.

The team split up to check the four hangars. As Clint and Cane moved towards the third and fourth hangars further away, Adams and Davis went to check out the first and second hangars across from them.

Ten minutes passed and Adams radioed Clint letting him know the first hangar was clear as he and Cane entered the third hangar. Five minutes later it was cleared, and they moved on to the fourth hangar. When Davis radioed saying the second hangar was clear, Clint held his hand gun tighter. Natasha had to be in this hangar.

He inched closer and heard movement. There was a gap where the hangar door hadn't been completely shut, and he looked through to find Natasha on the opposite side of the area, barely conscious. She was tied to a chair, her head down.

He became furious. Those men were going to pay.

Adams and Davis joined him and Cane, and he counted them down to enter the hangar. They would go in, incapacitate by any means necessary, and get Natasha to safety before the plane, and possible reinforcements, arrived.

"Three."

They stood around the door.

"Two."

They readied their weapons.

"One."

Cane pushed open the door and the four men rushed in, taking in the sight before them. Davis took out a man with a gun, and Clint took out another without hesitation. He guessed there were about ten other men besides those two.

His team took out half the enemies surrounding them with weapons and combat - a couple other men surprised them. The three other men backed up Clint while he rushed toward Natasha. Her head dropped and her body bruised, he reached out to touch her when he felt a sharp pain on his arm from a bullet.

Turning around, he found the man that had grazed him and punched him square in the face. The guy didn't even see it coming. Clint pushed his elbow forward and hit him in the chest, and then elbowed him in the nose. The guy crumpled to the ground unconscious, and another man took his place. He didn't have a weapon, so he decided using brute strength would take Clint down.

The man moved forward to throw Clint to the ground, and Clint went to grab for his gun but found it missing. He moved out of the way of his opponent in time and the large man stumbled. Clint saw his gun near Natasha. He must have dropped it when he'd gotten shot. Focusing his attention back to the guy across from him, he moved forward and punched the man in the side of the head. While he was disoriented, Clint reached down and punched his knee joint hard. He heard a crack, and the guy screamed. Clint then straightened up and gave a hard hit to his stomach and then his kidney. The man fell on his back and Clint took his anger out on him, lowering himself to throw punches at his face. The guy was absolutely out, but Clint didn't care. He deserved to be beaten to death.

He was faintly aware of someone yelling out to him, and didn't stop hitting the guy until he felt a hand wrap around his arm. He tensed and was about to throw another punch until he saw who was holding him.

"Sir, you need to get out of here," Cane said hastily.

Clint's fury subsided and it took him a moment to register what Cane meant. "What?"

"The cargo plane will be here soon, and more of their reinforcements will arrive. Davis called the Director to send more agents down here to clean up."

Clint stood up and looked at him. "He knows?"

Cane shook his head. "Davis 'informed' him of how we were watching for suspicious activity and found these guys from the Russian mob planning something. He doesn't know that you, or Miss Romanoff, are here - you need to get her back to the safe house immediately."

Clint nodded and turned toward Natasha, who hadn't moved since when he'd last glanced at her. He slowly walked over and loosened the rope that was cutting into her skin. Her arms dropped to her sides. He touched her shoulder, and she jumped.

"Natasha, it's me. It's-" Clint stopped talking when he saw her face.

The hit she'd taken back by the parking lot had resulted in the left side of her face turning purple, and it looked like she'd been given another couple for good measure. It had swelled up. It looked like her nose had been bleeding a while ago too.

He almost cried out. She had been kidnapped and beaten because he hadn't done his job. This was his fault. His carelessness had led her to being hurt. He would never forgive himself for having her beautiful face treated like a punching bag. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve any of this.

She looked drowsy so he put one arm around her shoulders and the other arm behind her knees. He saw bruises on her arms where she'd been manhandled. Lifting her off the chair, he carried her outside the hangar where he found the car being brought to him. Adams got out of the driver's seat and walked around to open the passenger door.

"Thanks," Clint said, and laid her down gently. He brushed the hair out of her face and put her belt on.

Davis and Cane walked over to the car and Clint walked around to the driver's seat.

"Thank you, guys. I really owe you," Clint said. Cane chuckled.

"We wouldn't be where we are if it wasn't for you. You know we'd do anything for you Sir," he replied.

Clint gave a weak smile. He looked at his men. "I mean it. Thank you. I-"

"Get out of here," Adams said with a smile. "We'll take of it. Just make sure she's alright."

Clint nodded and got in the car. When he drove off, he saw his men going back toward the hangar to wait for back up. He looked over at Natasha, who was still in her seat. He was concerned. She could have a concussion.

"Natasha?" He asked. He touched her arm and she jumped again.

"Where am I?" she asked anxiously.

"It's okay," he replied. "You're safe. I'm taking you home. But you need to stay awake. Can you do that?"

Natasha was still for a moment and then nodded silently. Clint turned on the radio, and they didn't say another word for the rest of the trip.

His adrenaline levels had dropped drastically, and he could now feel the sting of his wound. He would deal with it when they got back to the safe house.

* * *

Natasha slowly got out of the car and Barton came over to help her walk. He'd parked outside the front door.

"I'm fine," she said softly, and he gave her space to walk to the door.

But she wasn't fine, was she? She'd thought she could handle herself tonight, and she'd been kidnapped. She should never have left the house. She should have just trusted Barton, and now she regretted ever questioning his loyalties. Because of her, his job had been put at risk, not to mention his life. She had been senseless and Barton had paid. She needed to apologise. She looked over at him and saw his arm was bleeding.

"What happened?" she asked quietly. He furrowed his eyebrows and she nodded at the blood.

He looked at it. "Oh… I got shot. Nothing serious, it was just a graze. Didn't even hit the muscle."

She laughed humourlessly. "Nothing serious? You got shot - it could have been much worse. You could have died trying to save my stupid ass."

They reached the door and Barton stood there looking at her. She looked back at him.

"I'm sorry," she said, and he gave her a look of confusion.

"You're sorry?"

She nodded. "I thought you were… look, I thought I could be sneaky and find out what you were up to and it backfired. You were completely right. I-" Barton interrupted her.

"What happened tonight - that's on me. You did nothing wrong, Natasha. None of this was your fault. If I'd just done my job like I was supposed to and told you the truth, this never would have happened."

Natasha looked up at him. She'd never seen him so grave. "It… it's okay. I don't blame you."

"You should. This is my fault and I am so sorry. For everything that happened. It was my responsibility to protect you and I didn't, and for that I can never make up to you. If I had just done my job then none of this…"

He hesitantly reached out and brushed his fingers along her arm. She flinched, and then looked down at where he was touching her. Only now did she notice the bruises scattered along her arms. She reached up and traced the bruises with her fingers. They were sensitive. She also now noticed that her face was hurting – really hurting. She'd felt it on the trip back, but she'd been so numb it just felt like a slight ache. Now it felt like she'd taken a brick to her face. She moved her hand to touch it and Barton grabbed it before she could. She looked up at him, confused.

"Don't touch it," he said, his face serious. "It'll be tender."

_My face… what happened to it?_

She felt herself shaking and Barton did something unexpected. He pulled her into his arms and wrapped them tightly around her. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. While he gave her a sense of security this moment, she still couldn't help but feel powerless.

Tonight her foolishness had gotten the best of her. She'd never really thought things through, and tonight she'd almost been kidnapped. Barton could have been dead right now. She felt tears forming but she blinked them away. She didn't want to cry over this. She wanted to grow from it. Up until the moment she was kidnapped she'd thought she was fully capable of protecting herself; but only now could she acknowledge that she wasn't as good as she believed. Her father had taught her a lot, but there was still so much he'd been unable to show her because of his absence. She needed to improve her skills so she would truly be able to defend herself.

And she knew just how to do it.

Now wasn't the best time to bring it up; he'd think she was ridiculous. She decided to just enjoy his embrace for a little longer instead. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed in defeat. She wished that she could ask him to spend the night with her. Not in a romantic sense, although that would be awfully nice too. But this hug was probably the only thing she'd ever get out of him. No, she just didn't want to be alone. She was afraid.

"Barton?" She asked into his chest.

"Mm?" He replied.

"Could you…" she sighed. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Could I….?" He questioned.

"Could you maybe… sleep in the lounge with me? I mean-"

"Sure," he answered. "I'll grab your mattress."

* * *

Clint finished cleaning up his graze and put a bandage on it. Then he went into the lounge and settled under the blankets he'd set up on the couch. He looked down at Natasha below him, sleeping peacefully on her mattress by the fire he'd lit. The flames highlighted her features – her face was still incredibly swollen, but would no doubt go down within the next few hours.

He hadn't wanted her to touch it, and he'd made sure she hadn't looked in the mirror when she came in the house. He feared it would have caused her to go into shock; she'd been pretty close to it earlier, but she'd held herself together and he was proud of her.

He reached his hand out and stroked her hair. He smiled. A little creepy probably, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to touch her. He couldn't stop thinking about touching her ever since he'd hugged her tonight, and it was killing him. He'd been attracted to her since he'd met her, and up until now it hadn't been a big deal.

But it was now.

He'd never felt so attracted to a woman before, and it was made all the more tempting by the fact she was the one woman he could never sleep with. Never mind the fact that this was his protectee - she was John's little girl. He would freaking kill him if Clint did anything with her. So why was he torturing himself?

_Enough._

Clint pulled his hand away in disgust. He was a trained agent for fuck sakes. Surely he could resist temptation. All he needed to do was limit physical contact with her and act casually. He couldn't let her know that he was attracted to her; it would just make the whole situation awkward. Once he was away from her, he could do whatever he wanted, but for now he needed to be considerate of her. He was lucky she'd forgiven him so easily; he didn't want to screw it up by her worrying that he'd jump her or something.

He just needed to keep his distance.

* * *

**So Clint is defs feeling the heat, and he's unaware that Natasha is too. This should make for some interesting interaction haha**

Read and review, I'd love to hear what you think! Thanks everybody!


	12. Secrets

**First off I want to apologise for being so slack. But with my classes just ending I have some time for writing :)**

**This chapter is sort of a fill in chapter, but I wanted a little character development. I'll explain more at the end.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha woke up to the smell of coffee brewing. She turned her head and a pain shot all over the side of her face.

"Ow!" she shouted, and hesitantly reached her hand up to touch her cheek.

"Don't touch it," Barton ordered, walking into the lounge. His hair was wet, and he had no shirt on. Natasha found herself staring and blinked a few times.

"Um… why not?" she asked. She drew her eyes away from his torso to look at his face, and he gave her a sympathetic smile.

"It's not as bad as it was last night, but it's still a little swollen. Try not to touch it because it'll hurt." Barton turned to leave but stopped.

"You should take a dip in the pool; it might soothe your face. It's great this morning." He left for the kitchen.

Natasha was thinking about a shirtless Barton when someone else walked into the room.

"Good morning, Miss Romanoff," Valentina said cheerily as she walked in with a tray.

"I brought you some-" Valentina looked up to smile at Natasha and froze, almost dropping the tray. A look of pure shock crossed her face.

"Agent!" Valentina screamed, her voice ringing through the house.

"Agent, come immediately!" A few seconds later, Barton came rushing into the lounge. He had a gun in his hand, ready for a threat.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, and Valentina pointed to Natasha.

"What happened to her? Her face! What did you do?" she questioned accusingly.

Barton looked at her in disbelief. "You think I did that do her?!"

"Well, who else could have touched her? You are the only one who has contact with her." Valentina turned to face Natasha. She had a look of worry on her face.

"Did he do this to you, Miss Romanoff? Do you want me to call-?"

Natasha interrupted her. "Barton didn't do this, Valentina. I… I snuck out last night and well, the men after my father found me."

Valentina looked like she was about to faint, but Natasha continued. "Barton came after them and found me. If it wasn't for him… I would be much worse. He saved me."

Valentina slowly shook her head. "Why would you put yourself in danger?" she asked quietly.

Natasha was about to say she behaved like an idiot but Barton answered before she could.

"It was my fault. She thought I was keeping something from her, and followed me. If I had just told her what I was up to she never would have been taken in the first place." Valentina opened her mouth to speak but Barton beat her to it. "I was contacting my team to get an update on the mission. I thought we weren't followed but I was wrong."

He turned so he was fully facing Valentina, sat his gun on the coffee table and put his hands together.

"I know you care about Natasha and her father, and I'm sorry I put both of them in danger. I hope you can forgive me, Valentina."

Valentina was silent for a moment, and Natasha thought she would blow up at Barton. But one look at the man and Natasha could see he was safe. She had to hand it to him: he did the puppy dog eyes perfectly. Valentina sighed and shook her head again.

"You two will be the death of me. Please, do not put yourselves in danger again."

Valentina left the room muttering about them being as worrisome as children, and Barton and Natasha were left staring at each other.

Natasha spoke first. "Thanks for taking the heat. She might have grounded me or something."

Barton laughed. "The funny thing is she'd probably try."

Natasha shrugged. "She cares about us. Still, you really got her with the puppy dog eyes."

Barton feigned innocence. "Puppy dog eyes? I did no such thing. I'm just incredibly sincere and charming."

She laughed and then they went back to staring at each other in silence. Barton didn't seem to mind, but it was making her uncomfortable to watch him so intently. She cleared her throat.

"So… um, I have a favour to ask you."

Barton narrowed his eyes at her for a second and then shook his head. "No way."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" she exclaimed, and he laughed humourlessly.

"You want me to brush you up on your training. And the answer is no."

"But-"

"No."

Natasha yelled in frustration. "Why not?"

Barton was silent and she became confused. Why outright say no if he didn't even have a good reason?

"Do you think I'm not good enough?" she asked quietly.

"Absolutely not," he replied immediately. "That's not it at all."

"Then why?"

She was almost whining now, but she didn't care. She did not want a repeat of what happened last night and she wanted to be able to prevent it from happening again. And Barton could help her do it. Thinking about it, besides her dad, he was the best guy for the job - literally. He was at the top of his field, so who better to teach her? She wanted to learn what he knew.

"Give me a good reason why you can't teach me and I'll drop the subject. I'll never bother you about it again."

She watched his face as he thought it over. He didn't say anything, but she could see he was conflicted over something. She had no idea why he was so hesitant to teach her. She wasn't that bad company was she?

He sighed and she watched his face drop. "Fine," he said begrudgingly.

Natasha smiled brightly. "Thank you so much, Barton. You are not going to regret this, I promise you. I'm going to be the best student you ever had."

Barton put up her hand to stop her. "I'll teach you, but only after your bruises have gone away, alright?"

Natasha looked at him in confusion. "Why?"

He sighed again. "Because I want you at full health before you start adding more injuries to your body. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Romanoff."

She nodded and he clapped his hands together. "Okay, until I start training you I want you doing laps in the pool for sixty minutes every morning – starting today. Go get your swimsuit."

Natasha stood up and saluted her new trainer before running upstairs.

* * *

_Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit._

Why did he just agree to train her?

Clint took a seat on the couch and pressed his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose. His patience was wearing thin, but not with her. How much longer was he going to torture himself?

In his defence, it was her who wanted him to train her. And really, there wasn't a solid reason for saying no. Saying he couldn't touch her because he was incredibly attracted to her just wasn't valid - it would probably just creep her out actually. But he had time to reign in his self-control; he wouldn't be starting their training for at least another week which allowed him to get his shit together. John had taught him how to manage his emotions when in the field, and that's exactly how he would think of this - as another mission in the field. But… was that what he really wanted?

Yes. Yes, it was. There was no way he could have anything with this woman. He absolutely could not-

His thoughts were interrupted as Natasha came downstairs. She was wearing a black bikini, modest by all accounts, but she still managed to make it look sexy as hell. He sighed in irritation for noticing and she stopped walking.

"What?" she asked.

"What?" he asked back and she gave him a look of exasperation.

"You sighed as I walked past. Did I do something wrong already?" she asked with a frown.

He gave her a small smile. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just… going through the training I have planned for you. We're going to need to go over what you know. But we'll do it later. Now get in the pool, and remember: sixty minutes."

Natasha smiled. "Yes sir."

She walked outside and Clint watched her dive into the pool. As he expected, her strokes were graceful and deliberate.

"Is there anything she can't do?" he muttered to himself, and jumped when he heard a response.

"She refuses to show vulnerability," Valentina said quietly, watching him. "Something she inherited from her father actually. Of course, you already know that about her father. You've spent quite a lot of time with him, haven't you?"

Clint looked at her. "I don't know what-" Valentina laughed and he stopped talking.

"He mentioned you, you know," she said. "Not by name of course, but I knew it was you after I met you. I wasn't completely certain at first, but I am now."

Clint simply stared at her for a few moments before responding. "How did you know-"

"John mentioned a young man he'd taken under his wing," Valentina said before he finished. "I remember him saying you were quite the protégé. When Natasha told me of your titles and skills, I just assumed you were who he'd talked about all those years. He thinks of you as a son - he's very proud of you."

Clint listened with wonder. He'd always thought of him as the father he'd never had, and he knew John had some affection toward him, but he'd never really put it into words. Like Valentina said, John just wasn't the type. But hearing how he talked of him… well, he never felt closer to the older man…

This just made his conflicting feelings even harder to ignore. John thought of Clint as a son and he a father figure. Being attracted to his daughter? He obviously had a death wish. The hesitation stopped now. That was it. He would train his mentor's daughter as if she was any other recruit and that was the end of it. No hope, no agenda. She was just another recruit.

Something was nagging at him from his conversation with Valentina and as he looked at her, he found her lost in her own thoughts. John had mentioned him to her? Why would he do that, unless…

_Huh._

It was a toss in the dark but he had to know.

"How long were you sleeping with John for?" he asked casually, and Valentina jumped.

"Wh-what? I never said-"

"You didn't have to," he responded before she could finish. "John wouldn't have mentioned me unless you two were seriously involved. Were you?"

Valentina looked away, and Clint didn't think she would answer. He looked out at the pool.

"When he helped me, we connected," she said quietly. Clint looked back over at her but said nothing. She continued.

"I do not know how strongly he felt about me; I don't think he ever completely got over Miss Romanoff's mother. But… I was in love with him. We spent a lot of time together the year we met, but then he had a mission and left. I saw him a few times over the years, but we never… _got involved_ again. I don't think he ever loved me like I loved him."

She looked up at Clint and he saw heartbreak in her eyes. "That is all I will say on the matter. I will ask you not to mention this to Miss Romanoff. I care about her; I do not wish to create tension by the fact I… I was in love with her father."

Clint nodded. "I'll keep your secret if you keep mine." Valentina nodded, but had a look of confusion on her face.

"Why do you not just tell Miss Romanoff you know her father? You could tell her so many things she wanted to know."

"The same reason you don't want her to know about you and John," he answered. "If she knew her father was my mentor – that he's like a father to me – she wouldn't see me the same. I don't think she'd understand my reasons for keeping this a secret now."

Valentina nodded, but she didn't seem convinced. "I hope you realise that the longer you wait to tell her, the bigger the damage will be."

Clint sighed. "Hopefully I'll protect her until John returns and get back to work, and she'll never find out."

Valentina gave him a sympathetic smile before she went about her cleaning, and Clint was left alone to his thoughts.

He thought about how Natasha would react if she found out he was keeping this from her. They'd made such good progress in their relationship; if she found out she would never trust him again. He'd broken their trust before and she'd forgiven him but he doubt that she would a second time if she learned what he'd kept to himself. But this was a woman who had lived without her father for years. All the time she'd missed with him? He'd had it all. He probably knew the man better than she did, and she was John's blood. Telling her was pretty much rubbing it in her face.

It would be cruel to let her know now. She would be heartbroken, and he didn't want to hurt her. With any luck, he'd never see her again after this whole mission was over and his little secret would remain just that.

* * *

**I wanted to build a little bit of a relationship between Barton and Valentina. We know that she cares for Natasha, but now we know she has a sort of affection for Barton. Not a strong one, but it's there.**

**We've also learned that Valentina and John used to be together. I wanted more of a back story to Valentina, a little more connection to Natasha and her father.**

**Also, Barton keeping the fact he's pretty much a son to Natasha's father is a big secret to keep. He might not have thought it was a big deal, but sooner or later it's going to blow up on him.**

**Sorry about the slow chapter, but it's sort of necessary. Next one will be better, I promise! x**


	13. Training Sessions

**Tada! Another chapter!**

**There is quite a bit of a time jump, but it was necessary for the story to progress**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Two weeks later**

Clint stood waiting for Natasha in the lounge. Natasha had been hounding him every day, and her body was now clear of bruises so he had no excuses to put off her training. So he'd cleared all the furniture for the room so there was plenty of space for them to train and made her warm up with laps in the pool. But he still wasn't comfortable with what was happening. He understood her want to protect herself, but it just didn't feel right having so much contact with her.

He berated himself one more time for letting his attraction to her put him at a disadvantage, but really it wasn't just physical attraction. He felt himself becoming more attached to her, and that wasn't good at all. He heard footsteps so cleared his thoughts and put on a serious face as Natasha walked into the room. She sported a singlet and track pants – the same attire he currently had on.

_Time to get this over with._

"Alright, I don't know where John got up to in your training, but I've seen a little of what you can do. You're actually pretty good."

"I had a good teacher," Natasha said and he smiled.

"That is very true. We're going to go over basic hand to hand first and work our way up so I know where to focus your training. Now, show me what you've got."

Clint spent the next two hours making Natasha repeat blocking his attacks and returning them. He had to admit, she caught on incredibly quick. When he was sure she knew what she was doing he moved on. He reached behind the couch and grabbed his gun. He pointed it toward her.

"I want you to try and take my weapon from me. Now-"

Natasha rushed forward and grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward and down, hitting the gun out of his hand. She spun him around so she was behind him, and Clint turned and tried to punch her. Natasha extended her arm to block the punch and kneed him in the stomach. He grunted and she went to finish him off with a hard punch to the face but stopped a second short.

"How was that?" She asked with her fist still next to his head. He smiled.

"Perfect," he said sincerely and straightened up. "But remember not to rush in, okay?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry. Dad always told me not to but that's the one thing I never got the hang of."

He laughed. "Somehow I'm not surprised. Try it again, but with a knife this time."

Natasha did the same routine and executed it perfectly. Clint smiled widely.

"Jeez Romanoff, I don't think you even need me," he said with a smile. "Looks like we're moving on to something more advanced – something I can actually teach you."

Natasha nodded seriously and he came to stand in front of her.

"You remember when you took me down at the train station? You used that combat technique?"

Natasha nodded again. "Great. I'm going to teach you more techniques like that. First things first though: did John teach you how to do that?"

Natasha looked away. "Actually, technically I taught myself. I mean, he showed me once how to do it but I never perfected it. It was a fluke that I managed to do it on you."

Clint nodded. "I thought so. We're going to perfect that one before we move on to the others. Actually, you pretty much had the technique down, but I want you to learn the proper landing. Show me how you do it and then we'll work on it."

He waited for Natasha to ready herself and then nodded. He went to punch her and she blocked, placing her hand behind his neck. She placed her other hand on his shoulder and lifted herself up, wrapping her legs around his neck. She pulled herself down and Clint felt himself being forced forward. As he fell he watched as she rolled back and landed on all fours. He landed on his back with a thud.

She remained where she was and looked over at him. "So how do I improve it?"

Clint sat up and leaned back on his elbows. "Instead of letting yourself fall with your opponent, I want you to stretch your legs out before you hit the ground and keep yourself standing. That way you'll be at an advantage. Let's try it again."

They stood up and faced each other. Clint extended his arm to punch Natasha and once again, she blocked. Placing one hand behind his neck and one on his shoulder, she pulled herself up and wrapped her legs around his neck. When she pulled him down, instead of rolling with him, she extended her legs and stood up straight as Clint rolled forward and landed on his back again. She stood above him with a smile. He smiled back.

"You were right. That was way easier," she said happily. Clint sighed and sat up. "I told you. Man, I forgot what I was like to get my ass kicked several times in a row. I'm usually the one inflicting pain, not receiving it."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're giving up on our training?"

Clint scoffed. "Of course not." He stood up and faced her. "Again."

* * *

**One month later**

Natasha continued to repeat all the techniques until they were perfect. When Clint was confident she knew how to do it he moved on. Over the course of the last month Natasha had made unbelievable strides in hand to hand combat. Her memory allowed her to catch on to things quickly, and Clint was able to catch her up on everything her father hadn't been able to teach her - in a shorter amount of time than he really expected. Things were made easier by the fact that Clint had been taught by John, which allowed him to teach Natasha the same way – one she was familiar with. However, Clint found himself being gentler with her than he did with other recruits he'd trained. She responded well to his teaching, and he felt himself enjoying himself more than he should. Being around her so much… it wasn't helping whatever he was feeling toward her. Luckily, they wouldn't be training this hard for much longer. Today they were having a final test to see if she could put everything into practice correctly. If she could beat him then he would know how well he'd done and her training would be complete.

Natasha walked into the lounge and Clint watched her with appreciation. He felt himself automatically smiling and Natasha saw. She smiled back.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked back.

She laughed. "You were grinning. Is something amusing you?"

He shook his head. "I'm just thinking how fun it's going to be to kick your ass."

She grinned. "You can try. But I think you're a better teacher than you realise, Barton."

He shrugged. "Well, we're going to find out. Are you ready?"

She nodded and came to stand in front of him. They both readied themselves to defend. Clint narrowed his eyes. For once, Natasha wasn't rushing in. Well, looked like he was starting them off.

He moved forward, extending his arm to punch her and she used her arm to block it. She then tried to grab his neck and choke him, but he broke the hold. He went to punch again and she grabbed his arm, leaving him open for her to kick him in the stomach. He stumbled back and she ran forward to punch him in the face, her speed exceeding his own. She grunted as she threw punches which, not surprisingly, were slightly arousing.

He blocked them and they continued sparring for a few more moments until Clint got an opening. He punched her in the stomach, not hard enough to do damage. She stepped back and he moved behind her, grabbing her and wrapping his arm around her neck. She clawed at his arm and he tightened his grip a little. She relaxed slightly and he saw her bunch her fist before swinging back and hitting him straight in the face. His grip loosened and she reached up to elbow him in the side of the head. He stumbled back and she stepped forward, attempting to punch him. He was now on the defensive and he moved his arm out to block, and she continued to attack. She spun around, throwing well executed punches and he used his arms to defend himself. He managed to throw in a few punches in return, but he had definitely taught her well.

She grabbed him behind the neck and kneed him in the stomach. He realised she was about to use a technique he taught her. She left her hands holding on to his neck from the side. Lifting her weight so he would support it, she swung back and under his arm like a backwards roll, landing on the other side so she was facing him again and he was bent over.

She remained holding on and trapped his arm so she could punch him in the chest. She let go and Clint spun to elbow her with his other arm. She stumbled but recovered quickly. Before he could register, Natasha spun around, landing a roundhouse kick to the side of his head. Slightly disoriented, he fell to the ground on his back and she took the opportunity to pin him. Placing her right hand to his neck to choke him and readying her left fist to punch him if he moved, Natasha sat straddling him as he lay on the ground. He tried to move his body but she had him down good and the grip on his neck was tightening. They were both puffing. He slowly lifted his arm and she tensed her fist to hit him until he gently tapped her thigh in defeat. She immediately loosened her grip but stayed where she was. She grinned down at him.

"Well?" she asked eagerly.

"You were right," he said, trying to regulate his breathing.

"Right? About what?" she asked.

"I'm a better teacher than I thought," he said with a grin and she smiled back.

"I do like to be right. But… thank you, Barton. I mean it. You didn't have to train me, but you did anyway." Clint looked up at her.

"Of course I did. I'd do anything for you," he said without thinking and immediately regretted saying it. Natasha looked down at him and he saw her face change emotions. She eventually settled on a frown. He didn't know what she was thinking but he could take a guess.

_I've really done it now, _he thought to himself. _She must think I'm crazy._

He expected her to get off him as soon as he said it but she didn't. She released her hand from his neck, but stayed straddling him. She rested her palms on his chest, and they simply stayed there staring at each other.

Natasha moved herself so she was supporting her weight and slowly moved her face toward his. She stopped a foot away, waiting for him to object. But he didn't. He remained silent and watched her as she closed in the distance, softly placing her lips on his. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the tenderness of her kiss. He moved his hands so they were cupping her face and he felt her hands in his hair. He sat up with her still straddling him and their kiss became more intense. His tongue teased her mouth and she opened it, massaging it with her own. His hands moved down her body and rested at the back of her thighs while he felt her hands going under his shirt. He rolled her over without breaking the kiss so she was on her back and continued kissing her. Their tongues worked together harmoniously, their bodies moved slowly together, and he briefly pulled away to kiss at her neck. She quietly moaned and he returned his mouth to hers while his hands ran up and down her curves.

The front door slamming shut gave them both a fright and they pulled apart. Looking at each other in shock, they stood up just as Valentina walked into the lounge with bags in her hands.

"Hello Miss Romanoff, Agent. I just-" she stopped what she was saying and looked at them in suspicion.

"What is wrong?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. Clint and Natasha looked at each other and then looked back at Valentina.

"Um, what do you mean?" Natasha asked nervously.

"You both look flushed," Valentina answered. "Were you training again?"

"Yeah," Clint responded quickly. "We were just finishing up when you walked through the door."

Valentina nodded and then looked over at Natasha. "So, are you satisfied now?"

Natasha looked at her blankly. "What?"

"Are you satisfied now that Agent Barton has finished your training? Hopefully you won't get yourself into trouble again," she said with a smile.

"Oh, right. Uh yeah," Natasha said. "I'm… satisfied."

Valentina smiled again. "Alright, I'll start dinner. You two get cleaned up."

_Holy shit._

Natasha sat across from Barton as they ate dinner in silence.

_I made out with Barton._

She was pretty much in shock. She had made out with him. She really wanted to smile, but now was definitely not the right time. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. It was possibly the most delicious kiss she'd ever had, and she wanted to kiss him again and again. She sneaked a glance at him. He looked like he was lost in thought and she looked away before he spotted her staring. She'd tried to keep her feelings in check throughout the whole time they were training. She was pretty proud of herself for lasting so long. But when she was on top of him and he was looking up at her, she couldn't help but give in to her feelings. And she did not regret it one bit. She only wished she knew how Barton felt. He obviously didn't mind what happened, but what did he want? She wanted him, but did he want her?

The fact that she wanted him made her think about things. How much did she actually want him? She really liked being around him, and she was ridiculously attracted to him. If she didn't know any better, she'd say she had a crush on him. She honestly just wanted to giggle. It had been a long time since she'd felt so giddy about a guy. But… how did he feel?

She decided to take the opportunity of Valentina being out of earshot and bring it up.

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" she whispered, dragging Barton from his own thoughts. He looked up at her and sighed.

"Do we really have to?" he asked quietly and she frowned.

"Yes!" she whispered back.

He looked down at his plate. "Look, Natasha… You're great, you really are. And though I can admit I'm…"

"You're…"

He sighed again. "Though I can admit that I'm attracted to you, nothing else can happen. What went down earlier was a one off thing – lack of self-control on my part. I don't want anything like that happening again."

Natasha just sat there in silence as Valentina came in to clear the table. Barton thanked her for dinner and excused himself to go upstairs for the rest of the evening. Natasha remained at the table until Valentina left for the night. She didn't want to move, but then again she wanted to rush to her room and never leave it.

She had never felt so embarrassed… or rejected. Barton saw their kiss as simple lack of will power, not as something deeper like she felt. She should've known better – seriously, what did she expect? For him to tell her he felt something for her, that he wanted her? Please, a guy like him could probably have any woman he wanted. She doubted he'd want anything with her. They'd known each other not even two months, and she'd been nothing but an inconvenience to him the whole time.

She felt her cheeks blushing thinking about it and tears started forming but she blinked them away. She might have just experienced rejection but she was not going to cry about it. At least he told her how he really felt. Now she could really get over whatever _she_ felt and move on.

She went upstairs, looking briefly at Barton's bedroom door before making her way to her own. She wouldn't hold a grudge or anything against him; he was only being honest. Tomorrow she would act like it meant nothing to her, just as it was for him. Touching her fingers to her lips, she allowed herself a little comfort from the kiss – just for a moment. She'll no doubt be indulging in dreams of what could have been tonight, and that's all she would permit: one night of hope and fantasy.

Then she wouldn't think about it again.

_Everything will be as if it never happened._

* * *

**So they had their first kiss :)**

**I didn't want anything too intense because neither of them have acknowledged any kind of feelings for each other, but it was about time they acted on their attraction.**

**Poor Natasha, she's pretty gutted that Barton rejected her. She's at the point where she's thinking: how does this turn in our relationship make me feel? Do I have feelings for him? She's not 100% certain yet, but she knows she feels something. Unfortunately she thinks Barton is pretty disinterested - which he is most certainly not.**

**Barton is super duper conflicted. He's pretty much in the same boat feelings-wise, like he doesn't really know what he's up to atm haha, but he knows there's something there which makes it harder for him to stop anything between them. Plus there are just so many factors that play into his feelings, it's impossible for him to be able to admit anything at this point.**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think! If there's something you think I can improve in the story then by all means tell me :)**

**Thanks everybody :)**


	14. Delivery

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint heard Natasha's door close and he sighed.

"You are such an asshole," he muttered to himself. He sat on the edge of his bed with a scowl on his face.

Natasha had shown him that she wanted him and he'd thrown it back in her face. She was not the kind of person to put herself in a vulnerable position, and Clint doubted she'd ever do it again. He wanted nothing more than to storm into her room and show her that he desired her in a way he'd never felt before. She really was great and he cared for her, but he just couldn't do it.

The circumstances truly wouldn't allow for anything to happen. For once he actually resented his job. He had to be a professional in this situation, something that was becoming increasingly hard to enforce – also, not to mention what John would think of him. But Clint thought it over. Would John really be that mad if anything happened? Natasha was his little girl but Clint was the closest thing John had to a son. They trusted each other. Plus, Natasha was a grown woman. Would he care?

Clint laughed bitterly. Now he was just being desperate - this was his daughter for fuck sakes.

He lay back on the bed. She would probably hate him now for kissing her and then saying it didn't mean anything. Well, she knew he was attracted to her but he'd made it sound as if there were no feelings that went with it. There wasn't anything he could do about that unless he opened up to her, and there was no way he was doing that. It would cause the already complicated situation to be so much worse. His inner conflicts weren't making things difficult for just him.

He really was an asshole.

* * *

**Two weeks later**

Natasha could cut the tension in this house with a damn knife.

She sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed. Since their little make out session, Barton had been totally nice. It seemed like he was overcompensating for his rejection of her by trying to be a better friend. She understood that he didn't like her and was trying to make up for it, but she was growing frustrated by the way he was always so… friendly.

He smiled at her, he made conversation with her - he even tried to joke around with her. And while it was sweet how hard he was trying to mend their relationship, it was making things harder on her, and she wasn't reacting to his kindness very well as a result. Yesterday morning she'd snapped at him for being a nuisance and retreated to her room. She hadn't spoken to him since.

She had never wished that her time with Barton would be over more than she was now. Living so close to him was torture.

Up to this point in her life, she'd never had a serious relationship. She was barely twenty one years old, she felt too young to be tied down. When she used to see young couples on campus look lovingly into each other's eyes, she wanted to grimace at how ridiculous they were. They had their whole lives ahead of them to settle down and do the whole kids and dog thing with the picket white fence thrown in. That kind of life used to appeal to her – when she was about thirteen. As she grew older she became less interested. She figured she'd finish college, get a career and then maybe find someone later on in life. Now was the time for her to be free, experience life as she wanted. She didn't once contemplate developing feelings for someone so early, let alone someone she barely knew.

She could deny it all she wanted, but deep down she knew: she had developed feelings for Barton.

Their kiss had sent her brain into overdrive and she couldn't stop thinking how things might have turned out had they met differently. It was more than simple attraction now; she wanted to be with him, she wanted him to look at her the way she saw couples on campus looking at each other. She wanted to say it was just a crush, but it felt stronger than that. She wasn't ready to confront how she felt though. She wished he would just leave her alone so she could wallow in self-pity until the day they went their separate ways and then forget - forget and get back to the life she had before.

She heard a knock on her door and it opened slightly. Natasha was about to abuse who she thought was Barton, until she saw Valentina pop her head in.

"Miss Romanoff, may I come in?" she asked hesitantly and Natasha smiled warmly.

"Of course," she replied. Valentina came in holding a tray.

"I made you something to eat," she said affectionately. "You haven't had anything today."

She placed it in front of Natasha and then took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Would you like to talk about why you've been hiding all day?" Valentina asked after a moment. Natasha looked at her and sighed.

"I don't even know where to start," she said honestly, and Valentina chuckled.

"Why don't you just start at the beginning?"

So she did. Natasha told her about how she was taken to France, how she fought with Barton and he became her babysitter. She told Valentina about how she tried to escape from him and then he saved her life and they came here. She also told her about how she wanted to protect herself after her kidnapping and how she'd grown attracted to Barton. Finally, she recounted how they'd been training and kissed that day two weeks ago. Valentina was silent the whole time. When Natasha finished she smiled.

"So what led you to hiding in your room for almost two days?" she asked and Natasha sighed heavily.

"I asked Barton what the kiss meant for him."

Valentina looked at her expectantly and she reluctantly continued.

"He said it was... lack of self-control. He said he kissed me because he was attracted to me and nothing more. He also said that he didn't want it happening again. And I know that he's right and it shouldn't bother me. I mean, he's being professional. And I am the last person known for anything serious. But coming from him? It… hurt. More than I expected it to."

Valentina placed a hand on Natasha's shoulder. "Is that why you yelled at him?"

Natasha frowned. "Yes… no. I understand that he doesn't like me, but now he's trying to be my best friend to make up for it. I know it's not his intention, but it's like he's rubbing the rejection in my face. I snapped and now I can't face him."

Valentina chuckled and Natasha looked over at her in confusion. "I'm glad someone can find the humour in this," she said, and Valentina gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Sweetheart," Valentina said softly. "You're not hiding out of guilt. You're hiding because you don't want to admit you have feelings for Agent Barton. What he said, it hurt you because you want him to feel the same way."

Natasha shook her head. "No, I-" Valentina laughed and Natasha stopped talking.

"Please trust me when I say I know what I am talking about," Valentina said. "You might not believe it, but it's true. And no matter how much you deny it, sooner or later you will have to admit what your feelings are. Whether it is just a crush or more serious, you will need to confront it at some point and decide where to go from that."

Natasha stared at Valentina for a moment. "You had feelings for someone that didn't share them?"

Valentina simply nodded. "I loved a man who did not love me back. And though it was hard in the beginning, you eventually move on."

"I'm so sorry that happened, Valentina. The man was an idiot to let you go," Natasha said honestly. Anyone who didn't love this woman back must be stupid. She was amazing.

Valentina blushed. "He was a good man. He was simply in love with someone else. And you, my dear, are a smart, beautiful woman with so much potential. If Agent Barton doesn't see that, he does not deserve you."

Natasha was glad Valentina was in her life. She realised she'd missed out on these sorts of talks over the years and could now share them with the woman in front of her - she loved the woman as if she were her own blood. She extended her arms and Valentina moved forward, wrapping her arms around her. They hugged for a while, and then pulled back. Both had smiles on their faces.

"Thank you so much Valentina," Natasha said sincerely. Valentina nodded.

"It was my pleasure… Natasha," she replied, and Natasha grinned. She looked outside and saw it was getting late.

"Could you use some help with dinner?"

* * *

Valentina was teaching Natasha how to cook when Clint came out for dinner. Natasha had sauce on her cheek. She looked adorable, but Clint didn't want to stare lest she caught him. He hadn't seen her face in almost two days – the longest since he'd met her. He felt bad that he'd annoyed her to the point that she didn't even want to talk to him, but he didn't know what else to do. He needed her to know that even though they couldn't have anything together, he still cared deeply about her.

She looked up as he came in and stopped what she was doing. He gave her a small smile and a look of guilt crossed her face. She wiped her hands and came over to sit across from him at the table. Valentina brought out dinner, and then went to start cleaning up.

"Barton-"

"Natasha-" They both stopped and he motioned for her to continue.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said after a few seconds passed. "When I said you were a nuisance, it wasn't true. I was overreacting. You were just trying to be nice since things were a little…"

"Tense?" he finished and she nodded. He sighed.

"I'm the one who needs to apologise. These past couple weeks I've been an idiot, and I'm sorry. I was being annoying because I felt guilty about what happened. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings but… with our situation-"

Natasha sighed. "Can we just not talk about it again?" Clint nodded. Natasha concentrated on her dinner, but Clint thought about the kiss. He was a little sad that Natasha wanted to forget it so quickly. He knew it was for the best but still, it was a great kiss. He was about to ask her how she felt about what happened, but was interrupted when Valentina walked back in. She had an envelope in her hand.

"This arrived for you Natasha," Valentina said nervously as she handed it to her. Clint immediately stood up and went to stand behind her as she slowly opened it.

"You said no one knew she owned this place, right?" he asked Valentina and she shook her head.

"I promise you, the only other person who knows is-"

"Dad," Natasha said quietly.

Clint and Valentina looked down at her. A letter and what looked like a programme were lying on the table. Natasha was looking at her name and the address written on the front of the envelope.

"The writing… I recognize it. It's my father's handwriting," she said, excitement in her voice. "He sent this to me. Do you know what this means?"

"He's out of Russia," Clint said in disbelief. "He's back on the grid."

* * *

**So Natasha has admitted that she has feelings for Barton. She's not exactly in love, but she has some serious feelings for the guy and he's pretty unaware (typical haha), and ****Clint is still trying to maintain his professionalism, but he's having trouble considering his attraction is growing into legitimate, deep seeded feelings for Natasha**

**I wanted to secure the bond shared between Natasha and Valentina, and I thought what better way to do that than a conversation about boys? I really like how these two communicate so I hope you liked their conversation :)**

**Sorry I left it at sort of a cliffhanger, I'll update soon! Let me know what you thought! :D**


	15. Wishful Thinking

**Here you go!**

**Someone asked how old Valentina was. I didn't give a specific age in the story but she is in her late thirties :)**

**Now this is sort of a fill in chapter, so sorry that there's no action but there will be soon enough, I PROMISE! Please just hang in there!**

**I hope you like it!**

* * *

Natasha sat at the table taking in the writing. She would recognise it anywhere – she had no doubt that this was from her father.

Thoughts were running through her mind at full speed: did this really mean he was back? What did it mean for her? Would she see him? Would this mean everything was finally over?

She spared a glance at Barton who was looking at the programme included in the envelope. Now that her father was most likely back with the blueprints or whatever, did that mean her time with the agent was up? She knew that merely hours ago she'd been wishing that this would happen, but now that it had she found herself hoping they'd get a little more time together…

_For closure, _she thought immediately after, _to say goodbye and move on with my life._

She wondered how her father could have known she was here, and then remembered that she'd contacted him when she was still in France. She'd let him know that she was going here, and that if and when she moved she'd ring again. He must have checked his line and known she was still here. But she was confused. If he was out of Russia, then why simply drop off the envelope and disappear yet again? Where was he going, and why bother dropping anything off here in the first place? Natasha didn't understand why he wouldn't just go straight to the CIA and drop off what he had so this whole mess was done with. Maybe he had another plan, or maybe it was just easier to alert them first. She didn't really know to be honest.

Clint's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "This is a programme for some social event going on in Paris next week," he said tensely. He looked over at her; he had his agent face on.

"Are you absolutely sure John sent this?" He asked and she nodded.

"I would recognise his writing anywhere," she answered confidently. "He sent me enough letters when I was younger."

"Speaking of which," Clint said as he grabbed the letter that was included. He handed it to her. "This will be for you."

Natasha opened it up and read it slowly:

_Nat,_

_I know you must have been wondering why you have not seen me in so long and for that I apologise. I only hope that someone explained where I have been and why we cannot see each other. But until I can clear things up and make sure you are safe, I will not be able to see you for a little while more._

_I know I have not been the best father but I hope you can forgive me - I promise I will make it up to you sweetheart. I only ask that you keep yourself protected, as I know you can. _

_I'll be seeing you soon._

_Love always,_

_Dad._

Natasha simply stared at the note. She wished she could see her father. She hadn't seen him in over six years and she was so close to seeing him again it hurt. She looked up to find Barton and Valentina watching her.

"It looks like it'll still be a while before we hear from him again," she said dejectedly. She felt a hand on her shoulder - Valentina.

"At least we know he is safe," she said encouragingly. "You will see him soon." She gave her a smile and Natasha returned it, though somewhat weakly.

She grabbed the programme Barton had thrown back on the table and opened it. Apparently some high flyers and international diplomats were attending a social gathering to raise political awareness about international relations - a whole bunch of crap if anyone asked her, but what did she know about politics? It never appealed to her, but she supposed the government had to make money somehow. She looked down the programme somewhat disinterestedly until she spotted a few of the countries being represented at the gathering. A diplomat was going to be attending the event as a representative of Russia. Theories started popping around in her head and she turned her head to look at Barton.

"Could you explain to me one more time what my dad went to Russia for?" she asked and Clint raised his eyebrow.

"Uh sure," he said. "Your father was a mole in a Russian mob that specialised in weapon distribution and drug cartels. He got information on blueprints that had been created for a bomb so he took them before they could be sold, outing himself in the process. He's been off the grid ever since, trying to get out of Russia alive and bring the blueprints here so they can be destroyed."

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. "Why not just destroy them himself?"

"The documents need to be officially destroyed. Witnesses and all," he answered patiently. Natasha nodded.

"Okay, so where does the mole come in?" she asked.

"The mole is someone in a high up government position with contacts in the Russian government as well as contacts in the black market. We don't have any leads on the mole. He's good," Clint explained. "Plus, we couldn't get any accurate information on who the Russian mole is either. We hoped your father would know but he hasn't been in contact so…" Clint furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the programme still in Natasha's hand. He gestured for her to hand it over and she did. She watched his eyes skim over the words until they stopped on what she assumed was the same thing she noticed.

"There's a representative here from Russia," he finally said. Natasha nodded.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked excitedly. He slowly nodded.

"This Russian diplomat – he could be the guy tying the mob and the mole together," he announced. "John gave us this for a reason. We have to attend that gathering and check him out."

Natasha nodded. "We need to return to Paris. You need to alert the CIA."

Barton looked at her strangely. "What?" she asked in irritation.

"When I said 'we' I meant the agency," he said slowly. "You can't come with me."

"What?!" she shouted. "I just helped you figure out what dad was trying to tell you!"

"I know that and your help is appreciated, but you're not an agent. This needs to be taken care quickly and precisely. No offense, but you have nothing to do with this. You're a protectee."

Natasha looked at Barton with disbelief and then fury. "I can't believe-"

Barton interrupted her. "I'm sorry Natasha, I really am. I know you want to help but you can't. I'm leaving to get in touch with the Director." He started walking away and then stopped to turn around.

"Please, for your own safety, do not follow me this time okay?"

Natasha could only glare at him as he fetched the keys from the office. A few moments later she heard the car engine as it sped off into the night.

Unbelieveable. He was going to be in Paris by next week and she would still be stuck here – this place was great but she wanted to go too. Not just because she wanted to spend as much time with Barton before he was relieved of his babysitting duties, but she could help. She just figured out what her dad meant by the programme. The diplomat was who they were after, she knew it. All they needed was the mole and she would be free. She had as much riding on this as anyone. And Barton had trained her well - as well as her father had. She was an asset. She just had to convince him of that.

* * *

Clint made it out of the city and found a random corner store still open. He went and bought a burner cell. He put the sim card in that blocked his location and called the Director.

"Bailey."

"Sir, its Agent Barton."

"Barton? Is something wrong?" Bailey asked immediately.

"No Sir, in fact it's the opposite," Clint replied. "Agent Graham got in contact with us."

"He got in contact with you? He's back on the grid?"

"It appears so. I think he has new information on the mole hunt."

"And what information is that?" Bailey questioned.

"He managed to send a letter to his daughter. We don't know how but with the letter was a programme for some social event taking place in Paris next week. I think the diplomat that's representing Russia is the tie to the mob. This could be what we've been waiting for."

"Do you have any evidence?" he asked. Clint sighed.

"Not concrete proof. But Agent Graham gave us a clue - he might have the proof we need. I think we should send agents to check it out. For all we know he could be attending as well."

Bailey was silent for a moment. "Do you know where Agent Graham is at this moment?" he finally asked.

"No Sir, there's been no sign of him. No contact aside from the letter," Clint responded.

"Alright then, I want you and Miss Romanoff back to Paris in two days so you can be briefed and Miss Romanoff can be properly watched."

"Sir, with all due respect, I think she's safer staying where she is," Clint declared.

"I understand your concern Agent," Bailey said, but the tone of his voice sounded like he really couldn't care less about what Clint had to say. "But she will remain with you until John is back and this operation is finished. Do you understand?"

Clint sighed inaudibly. "Yes sir. We'll be back in Paris before the event."

"Be sure that you are," Bailey responded before hanging up.

Clint was confused. Sure, Natasha would be safe with him but he didn't want her safety being at risk at all. Paris had a bad track record and he didn't want the chance of adding to it. But orders were orders, and as Clint made his way back to the safe house he thought about what John was planning.

He had potentially found the diplomat that was acting as a safeguard to the mob, and if they could take him down then they could take down the mob – the diplomat was the one hiding their crimes, swaying the law enforcement, after all. The only thing they would need to worry about was the mole. He didn't know if John had figured out who it was, but knowing him, he was hot on their tail.

He could imagine Natasha's reaction when he told her she could come. She'd glare and tell him she was right and he would grin at her and they'd just look at each other some more. He sighed. Whatever he was feeling about Natasha was becoming more of a pain in the ass every day. It was always there now, a feeling at the pit of his stomach when he thought about her. There were these moments where she made him question what he was doing with his life. Not all the time, but some moments when he looked over and caught her deep in thought, he'd wonder about the future. He also wondered if she'd even remember him when this was all over.

* * *

He got back and entered the house. Valentina had gone home already, but Natasha sat waiting for him at the table.

"I'm coming with you," she said defiantly. He raised an eyebrow.

_Demanding as always._

"Who says?" he said seriously and she glared at him.

"I do. You need me," she said quietly.

"Look, you don't need to worry-" he started but she interrupted him.

"But that's the thing, I will worry! You're leaving to finish this thing and I'll be here. If there's a chance I could go back to my life after next week, do you really think I want to be here without you?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You don't want me to leave you?"

Natasha realised what she'd said and stuttered. "I meant… I mean like you're my babysitter. I could still be at risk. I don't want to be here alone. You need to take me with you."

Clint narrowed his eyes at her. "If you'd have let me finish, I was going to say you don't need to worry about staying because Bailey wants me to take you back to headquarters. He wants you with me at all times."

Natasha's eyes widened. "Really? I'm going with you?" Clint nodded and a look of disappointment crossed her features.

"I thought you would be thrilled," he said when she didn't say anything else, and she looked up at him.

"I am. It's just… if my father is right then everything will be finished soon. I'll really get to go back to college and you'll be sent somewhere…"

"You should be happy that we're so close to finishing, Natasha. Isn't this what you wanted, for everything to go back to normal?"

She sighed and then smiled brightly. "Yeah, you're right. It's just hard to believe that it'll all be over soon."

She stood up. "Goodnight, Barton."

"Goodnight," he replied as she walked upstairs and out of sight.

He sat down at the table. She was right. Their time together might be over in a matter of days. He suddenly felt emotionally drained. His feelings were beginning to eat him up inside and he couldn't even explain what it was he felt. He wished that he could tell her that he didn't want it to be over yet, but he knew that he couldn't. The last thing he wanted to do was admit he might feel... well something, and then let her down because he couldn't give her what she wanted. She deserved better. Maybe they would still be friends after everything was done. He hoped they would. After what they'd been through he didn't want her out of his life. And who knew, maybe somewhere down the line they could be something more… probably wishful thinking on his part.

But for now the top priority was the mission. Until everything was taken care of he wouldn't let anything else distract him.

* * *

**I wanted this chapter to be a sort of checkpoint. I wanted to clear up any confusion about the story line or something you might have missed so I hope you don't mind :)**

**Now that Barton is thinking beyond their temporary situation, he's beginning to take notice of the feelings he has for Natasha. You might think it's a little sudden but I wanted it to sort of hit him in the face (you know the kind of pain you try to pretend isn't there and then when you take notice you're like oh shit, should have taken notice earlier? This is kind of like that). He isn't willing to admit that it could be something really deep, so for now he's only just dealing with the realisation of his feelings. We'll get to the extent of them later.**

**I hope you liked it! Let me know if I can do something to make the story better, I love to hear feedback! Thanks! :)**


	16. Return to Paris

**Another chapter!**

**Just warning you, this is pretty much just a filler chapter. I'm really sorry but i don't just want to skip right to the good parts haha. But they are coming up within the next couple of chapters so hang in there!**

**Enjoy guys :)**

* * *

**Three days later**

As soon as they arrived in Paris yesterday, Barton had taken Natasha to the CIA headquarters and she hadn't seen him since.

Once they'd reached the agency she'd pretty much been handed over for someone else to look after her, and now she was in stuck back in another hotel. This one was different to the first one she'd stayed at thank goodness - she didn't feel like reliving the time she almost died. The current hotel was closer to the museum holding the social event, and there were agents everywhere; however, she was waiting for one in particular.

She glanced around the room, and her eyes landed on a clock stuck to the wall.

6:54pm.

She hadn't seen Barton in almost thirty-seven hours now.

This was infuriating. He should be here with her to make sure she was safe. Sure, there were agents all over this place but they weren't the best. They weren't Barton. She wanted him here. Plus, she wanted information on what was going down at that gathering in a couple of days. This could end it all, and she wanted to know what the CIA was planning on doing. The only thing she was sure of was that Barton would definitely be there. As the Director of Operations he was probably at the head of the damn thing.

_Maybe that's why he hasn't been to check up on me, _Natasha thought to herself sardonically.

Obviously, he was too busy to see her because he was doing his actual job. For a while she forgot that he actually had responsibilities besides her.

_Well… not good enough_.

He should have come to make sure she was alright anyway. It's not like she wanted him to herself or anything… she just figured that technically she was still under his guard and as an upstanding agent, he should act accordingly.

She sighed loudly and went across the stylish room to fall back on the bed. She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. After a few minutes she looked over at the alarm clock on the side table.

7:02pm.

It had been thirty seven hours since she'd seen him and she was acting ridiculously. With everything going on, Barton was pretty much her only concern. She really thought he'd have come to see her by now.

What was he doing?

* * *

Clint read over the new material once more in irritation. Bailey and several other agents, including his own team, sat around him at the conference table. He wanted to go and check on Natasha but his current problem was slightly more important.

"Sir, I really don't think-" Clint started but Bailey interrupted him.

"Barton, I am aware you take point in this operation but I need to override you with this decision," Bailey said sternly. "Every other aspect of it is under your command, but this argument is settled. I'm aware of your scepticism-"

"Scepticism?" Clint interrupted. "That's putting it mildly. You're asking me to willingly put a civilian in danger - and not just any civilian. Are you aware of what will happen if he finds even a hair on her head out of place? He'd kill me and then he'd kill you."

Bailey sighed. "I know you're close to Agent Graham and therefore quite protective of his daughter, but I am certain-"

"No offense, but you're not even going to be in the damn field. How can you be sure things won't go wrong? We know the diplomat will have security, but others could be there as well. If something happens that requires me to take my eyes off her, I have no way of protecting her-"

"Which is why you aren't going to be alone," Bailey said. "Several other agents will have eyes on her. Now I have already explained to you – twice, I might add – that we need Miss Romanoff to accompany you to the event as a cover. Her presence is necessary-"

"I still don't understand why another agent can't do that for me," Clint countered. Bailey shook his head.

"Miss Romanoff will also be useful in the event the other Russians also attend. In order to find them in the crowd we require a… distraction. They've been after her for months and haven't found her. If they're attending with the Russian diplomat and they spot her, they'll try to move on her and we can take them down – after all, chances are they know Graham still has the blueprints. If this works, we can begin pulling the whole empire down."

Clint sighed and looked at Bailey square on. "I'm not comfortable using her as bait."

The whole room was silent as Clint and the Director had a stare down. Bailey cleared his throat and addressed the room. "Everybody, we've outlined the operation. You can all leave for the night. We'll go over it again tomorrow."

Cane, Davis and Adams, loyal to the end, all looked to Clint for orders. Clint nodded and soon all the seats except two were empty. Bailey waited for the last agent to leave the room and looked at Clint. "Miss Romanoff will accompany you to the social event in two days. She will act as a lure in the hope the Russians expose themselves and we can take them down. Am I clear, Agent?"

Clint stared at him. "What happens if I don't agree?"

Bailey shrugged. "I'm sure there are other pressing matters the Director of Operations needs to tend to. I'm also sure another agent will step up and take the lead. However I'm assuming that because of your attachment to the family, you'll want to keep her safe yourself. Am I correct?"

Clint shook his head in disgust. "I'll do it. But if anything happens to her, it'll be your head as well as mine. You better hope nothing goes wrong."

He stood up to leave but Bailey stopped him. "If you do your job right nothing should go wrong. Of course, I'm confident in your ability to do just that, so there won't be any problems."

Clint walked to the door and Bailey spoke again as he touched the door knob. "Oh, Agent? Be sure not to mention to Miss Romanoff the reason for her involvement. It would be better if she didn't know."

"Better for her or better for you, Sir?" Clint asked innocently without turning around.

The director said nothing so Clint opened the door and left the conference room. He needed to go over the mission outline but he wanted to check in with Natasha first. It had been a while since they'd seen each other, and he found himself smiling in anticipation. She'd cheer him up after that ridiculous meeting. He supposed he'd tell her about the mission too. Knowing her, she'd be positively thrilled.

* * *

Natasha heard knocking on her door and walked over from the couch to open it. When she saw who was standing in front of her she almost slammed the door in his face. Secretly she was ecstatic to see him, but she hid her pleasure behind a glare.

Barton was grinning when he saw her, but it soon dropped when he noticed the look on her face. "What did I do?" He asked as he furrowed his eyebrows. Natasha continued to glare.

Clint sighed. "Can I come in?" Natasha simply moved aside and he walked in and over to the couch. She followed, taking a seat on the couch opposite him.

He looked at her for a few seconds. "Are you going to say something?" He asked with a smile. Natasha sighed. "I'm surprised you have time to ask," she said sarcastically, and recognition crossed Barton's face.

"You're mad because I didn't come and see you?" He asked with a laugh. When he saw the look on Natasha's face, the laughter immediately stopped.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know I said I'd check in when we got here but this mission needed to be-"

"I know," Natasha said quietly. "I just… I thought you had given me to someone else to babysit and had forgotten all about me."

"Of course not," Barton said immediately. "And I'm not babysitting you, I'm protecting you. And I will continue to do so until I know you're safe. You have to know that, Natasha. I promised you I would."

Natasha smiled at him and he smiled back. They continued to stare at each other for a few more moments until Barton awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Um, there's actually a reason I came to see you," he started. "This operation… I want to know if you'd be comfortable being involved in it."

Natasha was confused. "But… I'm not an agent. You said I'd be in danger."

Barton looked at her. "I think it's a good idea that you come. I can't really explain, and you can say no if you're uncomfortable with-"

"No, I'm not," Natasha said. "If I can help then I want to come. You'll be there, right?"

"Of course," Barton said with a smile. Natasha nodded.

"Well, as long as you're there I'll be perfectly safe. I'll do it," she said enthusiastically.

"Okay, I'll need to prep you tomorrow in operations and-" Natasha started giggling and he stopped what he was saying.

"What's so funny?"

Natasha grinned. "Hearing you talk about prepping me and the operation… I sometimes forget you're more than just a babysitter."

"Protector," Barton corrected. "And tomorrow is when you really get to see me at work," he added.

"Can't wait," Natasha replied.

* * *

Barton was right about her seeing him really working. He had finished prepping her for tomorrow night and had invited her to sit in the operations room where the step by step mission was set out. Barton was a good leader, explaining to his agents what they would be doing and how they would be going about everything. He was commanding but still managed to get along with his team, and it was obvious by how they hung on his every word that they admired and respected him. If it was possible, Natasha found him even more attractive.

When they were leaving the room an agent came to address Natasha. He was holding a flat square box with a bow on it.

"Miss Romanoff, this is for you," he said politely. Natasha looked at Barton and then back at the agent.

"What is it?" She asked as he handed it over to her. "Your attire for tomorrow night," he replied. He nodded at Barton and walked off.

She opened the lid slightly and Barton tried to take a peek. She quickly closed it before he could see anything. He looked offended.

"Why can't I see?" he whined almost comically. Natasha laughed at him.

"I want to see it before you do," she replied excitedly. She couldn't wait to check out what they'd given her to wear.

Barton sighed in mock defeat. "Fine, I need to finish up some stuff for tomorrow now anyway. Are you okay to see yourself to your room?"

Natasha was a little disappointed but understood he had a job to do. She nodded and carried her box back to the room. As soon as she got inside she ran over to the bed and threw the box down. She slowly lifted the lid.

_Wow._

* * *

**Twenty-four hours later**

Clint stood outside Natasha's room tightening his bow tie. He hated black tie events. He'd rather be in his military gear, but hey – work was work. And the change in uniform was at the bottom of his list for things to worry about tonight. A certain red head occupied the top spot.

He knocked on her door and waited for her to answer. He and Natasha would be the last to arrive tonight. He had about a dozen agents stationed at the museum, undercover as guests, caterers, security - places with access everywhere. He'd put a lot of work into this operation. If things went according to plan, Natasha would be on her way to freedom by tonight. Although he was saddened by the thought, he was glad she would finally get back to her normal life. She opened the door and what he saw caused his thoughts to come to a halt.

Whoever had been in charge of her outfit had chosen perfectly. Natasha was dressed in a champagne coloured, figure hugging dress that looked like it was made out of diamonds. It showed off her feminine curves and made her skin look like porcelain. Her fiery red hair fell in loose waves around her face, making her sharp blue eyes stand out. He stood there taking her in while she held the door, waiting for him to say something.

"Um… Wow," he finally managed to say. "Natasha… you look _amazing_."

He noticed she was blushing. "Thanks. You actually look pretty good too - who knew you could pull a tux off?" She moved forward to straighten his bow tie and he swallowed.

"The limo is downstairs. We'd better get going," he said when she finished.

He held out his elbow and she closed the door before taking it. Together they rode the elevator downstairs. When they reached the limo outside, they got in and drove off to what was expected to be a very memorable night.

* * *

**Alrighty, time for the big event! FYI, when I was describing Natasha's dress I had the dress in mind that Carrie Underwood wore to the Grammys a couple years back. I was in love with it and it sprang to mind when writing this chapter!**

**I'll have the next chapter up within the next couple of days :)**

**Let me know what you think!**


	17. Reunion

**I'm apologising in advance. For what, you'll soon understand :)**

**I'll have the next chapter up soon!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Before they arrived at the museum, Barton reached over and grabbed Natasha's hand, startling her. He immediately let go. "Are you okay?" He asked with a concerned look on his face. She took a deep breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just… do you think he'll be here tonight?" she asked hopefully. He was silent for a second and then smiled.

"You never know. He's been known to appear out of nowhere," he replied. She simply nodded and looked out the window. Barton held her hand again and she glanced back at him. He looked gorgeous in his tux, and Natasha felt butterflies in her stomach when his eyes were on her.

"What?" she asked awkwardly, her skin prickling where she could feel his touch.

"Are you okay with all of this? I can take you out if-" Natasha held up the hand he wasn't touching and he fell silent. "I'm just nervous. But you need my help and I won't let you down… Sir," she added with a wink and he laughed.

"Just remember that once we enter that museum, we have to be-"

"Professional, I know," she said easily. "You already explained it to me plenty of times, remember?"

He shook his head chuckling. "Fine, I'll stop. But remember to stay by me tonight and everything will run smoothly."

She nodded. "Got it. Now let's get this over with."

* * *

The museum was a remarkable building from the outside, but the inside was even more so. The high marble ceilings allowed for conversations to trail around the open space, where pillars held the room together and murals and artifacts blessed the walls. Natasha was a history buff and found the place absolutely magnificent. As she followed Barton into the crowd, she found herself becoming increasingly self-conscious. She hesitantly moved closer to him and he felt her presence. Sensing her nervousness, he grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to her.

"Drink," he instructed. "Calm your nerves."

"I'm sorry," she said miserably. "I'm trying to-"

"You don't need to apologise, Natasha," he said sincerely. "This is an unfamiliar situation and you're under a bit of stress. Just remember your cover if anyone asks."

"Angela Jamieson. Wife of Christopher Jamieson," she recited and Barton gave her a reassuring smile.

"See, you're fine. All you need to do is make conversation with people about whatever this is for like you give a crap."

She sighed heavily and he grabbed her hand. "Let's mingle, sweetheart."

* * *

An hour and a half later and Clint still hadn't talked to the diplomat. They needed proof before they could take him in and he was starting to question if they really had any. He secretly hoped John would show up so he could tell him why they were here without that proof, but then again maybe it was better he wasn't present. With Natasha here, he couldn't see it ending well.

_Speaking of… _Clint looked behind him to check on his 'wife'.

Ah, there she was. She was currently chatting with the wife of some government official. He noticed she looked more at ease that she had when they'd arrived. He subtly searched the room, making eye contact with some of his agents. As he'd expected, all were mixed into the room so every inch of this place was covered in case of a threat. His eyes returned to Natasha and he smiled. He was incredibly proud of how she had been tonight. He was also incredibly proud of his self-control tonight. He was on duty and he was a professional but… the more time he spent with her – especially in his own world – the more he was tempted to leave with her and never come back. He loved his life, but he didn't know how he would cope when she inevitably stepped out of it. He noticed her glance over at him and she smiled widely. He smiled back and gave her a small wave, and she motioned for him to join her. He made his way over and Natasha introduced him to her new friend.

"Margaret, this is my husband, Christopher," Natasha said cheerfully as Clint took the older woman's hand in his.

"I'm Margaret Nathan," the woman said. "I must say, you make a beautiful couple. How long have you been married?"

"Four months," they said simultaneously and Margaret smiled. "Newlyweds. No wonder your wife is glowing, Mr Jamieson. New love can do that to a woman."

Natasha blushed and gave a small smile, and Clint looked down at her. "She does look stunning, doesn't she?"

Margaret nodded in agreement. "She does. So tell me, what brings you here tonight?"

Clint told some fabricated story about wanting to make a difference in the government through contribution. He didn't pay much attention to what Margaret was saying; he was too busy trying to concentrate on Natasha. She'd been pretty quiet since he'd come over and so he put a comforting hand on the small of her back. She jumped at his touch and he looked at her quizzically.

"Are you alright, honey?" he asked and she just stared at him.

"Dear?" Mrs Nathan asked in concern. She touched her elbow. "Are you okay?"

Natasha snapped out of it and smiled weakly. "Yeah, I just think I drank my wine a little quickly, feeling a little light headed. I'm just going to go to the bathroom. Will you excuse me?"

He and Margaret both nodded and Natasha walked briskly to the opposite side of the room. He could still spot her red hair bobbing through the crowd, but he didn't want her alone. He excused himself from Margaret to check on his wife and walked in the direction she took. He reached the hallway with the bathroom and saw her enter, so he went to knock on the door. Before he got there he felt a hand on his shoulder. He felt himself being spun around and was soon facing the owner of the hand. When he recognised whose it was, he froze.

"John?" Clint asked, though he already knew it was him. The older man was clad in an expensive tuxedo, much like his own, with short brown hair that was graying at the temples and handsome features to match. Clean shaven and eyes like a hawk, he was a sight to behold.

John pulled Clint in for a hug and then pushed him back.

"What are you doing bringing my daughter into the field?" he whispered tersely. "Do you realise how dangerous it is for her? There are threats here."

Clint shook his head. "Sir, it wasn't my idea. Bailey decided to override me on my decision to leave her out."

John narrowed his eyes. "He overrode you? Are you kidding me? That's my daughter! You know how important she is to me. I want you-"

Clint interrupted him. "Okay I screwed up, I apologise. But you need to tell me-"

Just then the bathroom door opened and Natasha walked out. Clint hoped she'd stroll right past them, but she glimpsed over and saw him standing there.

"Barton, I'm fine. I just-" she spotted the man behind him and halted. John simply stared back at her.

"Dad?" she murmured and Clint sighed.

_Shit._

"Hi, sweetheart," he said quietly. Natasha slowly walked over to face her father.

"What… I thought…" she said, confusion written all over her face. When she couldn't find the words, she settled for actions. She ran forward, wrapping her arms around John. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around her tightly and hugging her in return.

"I've missed you so much," Clint heard Natasha say. John pulled her away and put his hands on her shoulders. "I missed you more. And I am sorry, sweetie. I promise I will make it up to you, but I can't stay. I just came to see Barton."

Clint held his breath. _Oh no._

"You came to see Barton?" she asked in confusion.

John raised his eyebrows. "If I'd known you were here I would have come sooner to make him send you back to headquarters. And if I'd known they were going to use you as bait I would have-"

"Bait? That's why I'm here?" she asked, turning to Clint. She looked like she wanted to murder him. "You said you needed me here. You didn't say I was just bait, Barton."

John put his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Sweetie, don't be mad at Clint. He was doing it against his wishes. He's a good man."

She slowly turned back to face her father. "Dad, how well do you know Barton?" Clint opened his mouth to stop him but it was too late.

"Well considering I trained him I'd hope I know him pretty well. Why? What happened?" John asked, glaring at Clint. He sighed again as Natasha turned to face him once more.

"He trained you?" she asked quietly, betrayal written all over her face. Clint stepped forward and she stepped back.

"Natasha, I didn't mean to-"

"For years I grew up without my father. You knew how much I wanted to know about who he was yet you implied you'd never even spoken to him! Why would you do that? Why would you keep this from me?" she demanded.

"I thought that if I told you about how close I was with your father you'd get upset," he reluctantly explained. "I figured I'd spare you the pain of knowing your father couldn't be with you because he was helping me." Natasha just stood there looking at him as he'd just killed a puppy. He had to make this right.

"I am so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought I was preventing it."

John stepped forward. "You didn't tell her I trained you? I thought that would have been the first thing that came out of your mouth."

Clint looked at John and shook his head. "No. She hated me enough already, I wasn't going to rub this in her face too."

"Huh," John said. "Interesting."

Clint looked at him as if he was crazy. He was about to tell him so when Natasha laughed bitterly.

"Isn't it ironic how my dad trained you, and then I came to you asking to train me? I even noticed the similarities in your methods but I didn't think anything of it." She gave him once last look of disgust before storming past him. He grabbed her arm before she could leave.

"Natasha, wait-" Natasha pulled herself from his grip. "Don't touch me," she muttered icily and walked down the hallway, back into the main room.

"I need to go before anyone sees me," John said after a few moments. "Keep an eye on her until I can finish everything. If anything happens to her…"

"I know," Clint murmured, disheartened. "I'm dead."

"I trained you well," he said. "Now go and take her back to headquarters. And take this," he added, throwing a USB drive to Clint. He frowned at him.

"The blueprints," John explained. "There's evidence implicating the Russian diplomat on there as well. Once he's down the mob will soon go with him."

Clint simply stared at him. "Why don't you just return to headquarters with this? Why give them to me instead of turning it in yourself? Did you even find anything about the mole?"

John simply gave a small smile. "Let's just say the mission isn't over yet. Some loose ends are going to need tidying up now that I've given you that. I just have to ask that you do me a favour."

"Name it," Clint said. John explained what he needed him to do and Clint hesitantly agreed.

"I know it's huge but I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important."

"I'd do anything you asked," Clint said immediately. "You know that."

John sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you. Now get Natasha out of here."

Clint nodded and John walked down the hallway and out an emergency exit door. Clint put the USB in his pocket and headed toward the main room. Now that he had the blueprints and evidence like John said, it would be up to John to uncover the mole. But for now Clint needed to alert his team to take the diplomat in. As he walked back into the main room, he searched for Natasha. He couldn't see her anywhere. He checked the room again and still couldn't spot her. He started panicking and walked over to Mrs Nathan.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but have you seen my wife?" he asked calmly. Inside his heart was going a thousand miles an hour.

The woman thought it over. "No, I don't think I – oh wait, I saw her being escorted out of the room about ten minutes ago. I think she was feeling a bit under the weather."

Clint thanked her and walked quickly toward the direction Margaret pointed. When he got out he didn't see anyone hanging around. If Natasha had truly come down here, she might have been taken into one of the several rooms that awaited him. He paused for a second, about to request back up, when he heard scuffling behind the first door. He crept closer. He could definitely hear movement. He quietly sent for assistance and grabbed the doorknob. Taking the gun out from his belt, he tensed and opened the door.

The first thing he noticed was that the room was bigger than he anticipated. The second thing he noticed was Natasha on the ground, out cold. His eyes stayed on her a second too long, for a hand came out of nowhere and pulled him into the dimly lit room. It looked like it was used for storage, but that was not Clint's concern. Two men faced him with knives.

Clint ran forward, pushing the knife out of one man's hand while kicking the other backward. Blocking a punch and landing one to the man's torso, he swung him around into the other man who was getting ready to stab him. The knife went into the other assailant and he cried out, falling to the ground and holding his side. The man still standing tried to swipe at Clint but couldn't get close enough.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded. The man didn't say anything. Instead he moved forward, trying to stab Clint in the throat. He blocked and the blade sliced his arm but he barely felt it. All he was worried about was getting Natasha out. He punched the man in the stomach and then punched him in the kidney. The man grunted and Clint grabbed his arm holding the knife. He bent it at an unusual angle and heard a crack. The man screamed and Clint heard the knife drop to the ground. He gave him a hard punch to the face and then placing his hand behind the man's head, slammed it into the wall as the door opened. Agents filed in as the man slumped to the floor. They were both unconscious at this point and the agents dealt with apprehending them while Clint rushed over to Natasha. He brushed the hair from her face and tried to feel for a pulse. He found it and sighed heavily in relief. He figured they must have drugged her. He looked up and saw an agent walking in.

"Hey, let operations know we can move in on the Russian," he instructed. "Clear the room and take him in."

The agent nodded and a few minutes later Clint could hear footsteps all headed toward the main entrance. He picked Natasha up and carried her outside where more agents had already arrived. He noticed the undercover agents had found more henchmen that were now being arrested. He found a car and laid her inside, and told the agent that had brought it that he'd get someone to return it when he got back to headquarters.

As soon as he got back he asked an agent to take the car back to the museum and took Natasha to get checked over. A nurse assured him it had been a weak drug and would wear off quickly. When she'd been given the all clear Clint carried her to the elevator and took her upstairs to her room. Taking the key card from her purse, he opened the door and carried her over to the bed. He laid her down, taking her heels off and leaving her dress on. She stirred as he pulled the covers over her so he went and fetched a glass of water. She opened her eyes as he sat it down on her night stand.

She rubbed her eyes and he waited for her to gain full consciousness before saying anything. She sat up and realised he was sitting at the edge of her bed.

"Get out," she said coldly. Clint shook his head and looked over at her.

"I'm not leaving," he said. "You were drugged. I'm making sure you're alright before I go."

"I'm fine. Leave," she ordered. "I don't want you anywhere near me."

Clint ran a hand through his hair. "Natasha, I'm sorry-"

"I don't want to hear it," Natasha said as she slowly got out of the bed. She walked over to the door and opened it. "Just go."

Clint stood up but didn't move away. "No way. I'm not leaving until we sort this."

"Sort what?" she shouted. "You lied to my face about something you knew I cared about. You told me about how my father cared about me and how he loved me, and the whole time you treated me like an idiot! Like a child who needed protecting!"

"It wasn't like that!" he shouted back. "I was trying not to hurt you, Natasha! You thought he cared more about his job than his own daughter. How could I possibly tell you that I knew that wasn't true because the man pretty much raised me since I joined the agency? How would it have made you feel? How would you have felt if a stranger told you all about how they got to grow up with your father? You barely even know him yet I could probably tell you anything about his life. How do you feel when I tell you that?"

Natasha slammed the door shut. "This is complete bullshit! You hid it from me on purpose. Tell me, how much did you know about me that wasn't on my file?" she demanded.

"That's beside the point. It has nothing to do with this," he said and Natasha exploded.

"It has everything to do with this! You used what I didn't know against me. You tried to gain my trust by manipulating me through what you learned from my father. Just admit it, you bastard. This wasn't just about protecting me. God, I hate you," Natasha said, her eyes tearing up. "I can't believe I fell for it. The sympathy, the training! The whole time you were with me you were only being nice because I was his daughter."

"That's not true and you know it, Natasha. I only lied to you about knowing John. I never lied about anything else," he replied testily.

"You must have been laughing when I kissed you, right? The fact I pretty much threw myself at you?"

"Are you fucking joking?" He stormed over to her and she backed into the door.

"Do you know how hard you made my job?" He yelled. "Do you know how much trouble you've caused me? You had me in the palm of your hand the second you met me. If John found out about half the shit that went down in Barcelona, I'd be a dead man. Do you understand how much you must mean to me if I'm willing to risk my job and my life for you?"

He realised that what he said was true. His job might be his life but he would have given it up a million times over if it meant she would be safe and happy - same thing with his life. He couldn't think of a better reason to die than protecting her. This woman had become the centre of his universe and he couldn't even complain because he was so happy about it.

She glared at him and a tear escaped. "I trusted you and you betrayed me," she cried. "And to think I had feelings for you, you asshole." As soon as the words came out her hand flew to cover her mouth and her eyes widened in shock. Clint stepped back and looked at her.

"You what?" he said in shock. Natasha looked down in embarrassment, her hand still on her mouth. She slowly removed it. "Get out," she murmured without looking at him.

Clint glared at her. "No." Natasha looked up and glared at him with such rage he questioned his next actions. But he risked it anyway.

Moving forward, he placed his hands on both sides of her face and crushed his lips to hers.

* * *

**I hope you liked it :)**

**Let me know what you thought!**


	18. Game Changer

**Here we go :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

When Barton kissed her she honestly hadn't expected it. In fact, she was hoping that would be the last thing on his mind for, once he did, her rage began to melt away.

As she felt his lips on hers, she let herself enjoy the warmth that spread through her body for a few seconds before pushing him away. He stepped back somewhat anxiously and waited for her to say something, but she remained silent. Her eyes locked on to his before making their way to his mouth.

They only stared at each other a second longer before rushing forward, their lips finding each other once more. He pushed her up against the door where his hands moved along her body and her hands became tangled in his hair. Their tongues became intertwined, their breathing became heavy. Barton reached one of his hands behind her to slide the zipper of her dress down and she took his lead, grasping at his shirt and pulling it from his pants. She unbuckled his belt while he kissed her neck and she moved back so she could quickly slip her arms out of the straps.

Once that was done, Barton pulled it down so it was now around her ankles, leaving her pretty much exposed. He took a moment to take in her almost naked body and returned his gaze to her eyes, a small smile of admiration appearing on his face. He kissed her, long and softly, and then gently slid his hands up her body. One settled cupping her face while his other hand was cupping her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple. The kissing intensified once more and Natasha wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body closer to her own. She felt his hands grab her thighs and hoist her up so she was off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around him. Without breaking the kiss, Barton turned and carried her to the bed where he set her down gently. She leaned forward on her knees and ripped his jacket from him while he kicked off his shoes and socks, and then unbuttoned his shirt and tore that from him too. Biting her lip, she grabbed his pants and boxers and looked into his eyes as she removed them together. She couldn't help but grin when he stood naked before her. Her eyes slowly moved down his body. She had to give it to him: the man should be proud. Giggling, she put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him forward on to the bed. She leaned back and he settled in between her legs, taking his time to make sure she was comfortable. He kissed her passionately, his tongue teasing her own, then broke away to kiss her neck.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked as he pulled away to look at her. "We can stop-"

"Are you kidding?" she said breathlessly. "I've been waiting for you to man up since training." He grinned.

"Man up? Be careful what you ask for," he said playfully as he returned his mouth to hers and kissed away the retort she was about to say.

She felt his hand settle between her thighs. He delicately removed her thong and she gasped softly as she felt his fingers enter her. His steady movement caused her more arousal than she expected and had to stop herself from finishing too quickly.

"Barton, now," she demanded while biting her lip and he laughed before kissing her breathless.

"Don't be so bossy," he whispered into her ear, but he complied anyway.

Gently opening her legs a fraction wider, little by little he entered her, allowing her to grow accustomed to him. Her breathing picked up and once he was completely inside her, she wrapped her legs around him and put her hands on his shoulders. As he began moving at a leisurely pace, she placed her hands in his hair and brought his lips down to hers. His pace increased until they were both breathing heavily, caught up in the taste of their fervent kisses.

His hands made her hot everywhere he touched and as he moved within her she could feel their bodies working in perfect harmony. As she came closer and closer to an orgasm, Barton's hand proceeded to slide down her body and stop between her legs. When she felt him touch her she softly moaned, tightening her legs and holding him closer. Barton moved faster and faster, holding on until the moment he pushed her over the edge. When she came she gasped, reaching out for him and digging her nails into his arms. She felt him go over the edge with her, their breathing loud and fast and her body enjoying possibly the most beautiful orgasm she'd ever received.

When they both slowed their breathing, Barton looked down at Natasha adoringly. He bent his head down and kissed her tenderly, and then gently withdrew himself from her. He settled next to her under the covers, wrapping his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest.

As they rested there in a content silence, Natasha felt Barton's hand come to settle in her hair. She looked up and saw he was curling it absentmindedly while his eyes were closed. She looked at his face, the face she'd come to anticipate on a daily basis. She thought of how much she despised him when she first met him and how the events of the past couple of months had led to this point. She also thought of what this meant going forward. She didn't have a clue what he thought of this: did he think of this as a casual encounter where they would still be friends, or did he want more? She wasn't sure what he wanted, but she was sure enough of something about herself.

A few months ago she would have thought it was impossible, and yet here she was admitting it for the first time.

She'd fallen in love with Barton.

Before this night she could have continued denying it, but sleeping with him simply confirmed it now. In a matter of weeks she'd become so close to the man that she'd actually managed to develop deep, real feelings for him. This man, who she'd started off absolutely hating, who'd lied to her since the beginning, had managed to break her walls down and get to her. She'd honestly thought she wouldn't let him get close enough for her to trust let alone love, but she'd proven herself wrong. She had never felt this kind of emotion towards a man before and to be quite honest, it scared her. The thought of living without him was a pain she just didn't want to think about lest it come true. When she thought of having to leave him and go back to her old life, she suddenly felt nauseous. She didn't want this mission to be over because that meant his time with her would be done. Lying here in his arms, she couldn't think of a better time to tell him how she felt. A pit started forming at the bottom of her stomach and the possibility that he wouldn't reciprocate popped into her mind but she didn't care. She needed to tell him immediately or it would eat her up inside. She moved so she was leaning on her elbow and he lazily opened his eyes.

"What's on your mind?" He asked with a smile and she couldn't help it; she beamed. Barton immediately noticed.

"You're in a good mood," he observed. "Looks like somebody did what you asked and 'manned up'."

She laughed, but the pit in her stomach grew and her face dropped. "Um, Barton," she said hesitantly. "We need to talk about what-"

"I know," he said seriously. "I know we need to talk about what just happened, but can we maybe just enjoy the moment for a while longer before we deal with everything else?"

The look on his face was so hopeful she couldn't say no. "Of course," she said. "We can stay in the bubble a little while longer."

He grinned and pulled her close to him. After a while his breathing evened out, but Natasha couldn't sleep. She was wide awake thanks to that sick feeling in her stomach. She didn't know why she was bothered so much, but the realisation of her feelings put everything into perspective. Now that she knew she loved him, she wanted to know how things would work out. She wanted Barton more than she ever wanted anyone. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, but she needed to know what he thought about this. If it turned out he felt the same way, they would need to figure out how this would happen. But if he didn't… well, she wanted to know as soon as possible so as not to let the heartbreak come down any harder.

Even though it was already eating her up inside, she wouldn't bother him with any of it just now. He deserved her patience. She didn't want to drive him away before he even said anything. Instead she snuggled into his chest and tried to enjoy their little break from reality.

* * *

It turned out she'd used more energy than she'd thought, for the next morning she was awoken by the sound of someone pounding on her door. Groaning, she looked around the room expecting to see Barton. He wasn't there. The pounding was still going on so Natasha got out of bed and reached for a nearby bathrobe.

"Coming!" she shouted. She glanced at the clock on the wall as she walked over to the door.

6:17am.

Ridiculous. What the hell was so important?

When Natasha opened the door she found a familiar face staring back at her.

"You're Cane, right?" She asked hesitantly. The man nodded.

"Is Agent Barton here with you?" He asked evenly. Natasha swallowed.

"No, why? Is something wrong?" She questioned worriedly. "Has something happened?"

Cane hesitated before answering. "Miss Romanoff, Agent Barton has been called in for questioning regarding the operation your father was engaged in."

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. "Questioning? What for?"

"New information has surfaced surrounding the mole hunt," he explained and Natasha swore she could feel her heart skip a beat.

"When you say he's been called in…" She started shakily.

"A warrant is out for his arrest, Miss Romanoff."

* * *

Clint paid the taxi driver and stepped out onto the foot path. Natasha was never going to forgive him, but John had asked as a last resort and this was important.

Clint needed to lay low. The CIA would no doubt have found the USB he'd 'hidden' in his room and as such would be out looking for him. And because no one had seen John since he came back on the grid - a theory that Clint had brought up to begin with - the agency would most likely assume Clint had been able to get a hold of the blueprints before he even got back, making him the culprit. He wasn't bothered - as long as they were looking for him, the mole will be getting a false sense of security, and it was only a matter of time before it bit him in the ass.

He paid for his train ticket and took a seat. He was flooded with memories of Natasha's escape when they'd first met and how he'd tracked her down here. He should have realised far sooner that he was in love with her. All the time he spent thinking about her, how he felt when she was in danger and how she made him question who he was. Thinking about it now, it should have been obvious but, as always, he elected to pretend the feelings weren't there. Now that they'd slept together… his life just wouldn't matter if she wasn't in it. But his chances with her were seriously screwed now.

The sick feeling he'd had earlier returned. He'd planned on telling her how he felt when they'd been lying in bed together, about how he wanted to be with her, but he figured that would have just made the betrayal hurt more. However, it didn't matter how low he felt at this moment; as long as the mole left Natasha alone, he could deal with the pain. He wasn't even sure they'd ever find their way back to how they were, but the suffering was worth it if it meant she was safe.

The train arrived and Clint got on.

John said to hide out so…

_Off the grid it is._

* * *

**You might be a little mad at what's happened but I'll explain why i wanted this to happen in a later chapter.**

**They slept together! I thought it was about time these two just gave into their feelings, because it allowed enough vulnerability between the two of them to finally admit to themselves what they felt. You probably think it's lame that i had them realise at the same time but let's be honest; they've had these feelings for a while and it's only natural that they come out after making love :)**

**Uh oh, Barton is in trouble. But although he loves Natasha, he needs to do this. It's just who he is, he needs to make things right. Don't worry, someone will get him out of this mess eventually :)**

**I hope you liked it!**


	19. A New Life

**Sorry guys, i've had exams so haven't had time to update this week. But here you go!**

**Before you get too excited, i just want to tell you that this is pretty much a filler chapter. A bit of character development and back story for the chapters ahead. Give it time, it'll get better!**

**Thanks!**

* * *

She couldn't move.

As the suite door opened and Director Bailey strode in, Natasha remained frozen in her seat. She tried to remember how she'd felt before the agent had come knocking, but it felt like years, rather than minutes, that had passed since she realised what had happened.

While Bailey spoke in hushed tones with Cane near the door, Natasha stared off into space wondering how she'd missed it - how she'd missed Barton being the mole. He'd convinced her she could believe in him, and he'd gone the extra mile in getting her to fall in love with him – he'd even managed to get her to sleep with him. He was probably giving himself a pat on the back for his spectacular acting as she sat here in shock, marvelling at how she could be so blind the whole time she was with him.

She thought back to her kidnapping. He must have been in on it the entire time – he might have even orchestrated the whole thing himself. Maybe she'd been right in following him in the first place all those weeks ago. Maybe he'd been worried of her doubt back then and set the ordeal up to gain her trust. Thinking about the possibility made her sick to her stomach. She'd depended on him on protect her. Hell, her father had trusted him, treated him as the son he'd never had.

_Dad._

Where was he? Come to think of it, what had they even been talking about when she'd seen him that night? Had her father found out and confronted Barton? What had they said after she stormed off? And why didn't her father turn him in if he did know? Why wasn't he here with her?

_Why did life always have to be so hard?_

She saw the Director take a seat opposite her and she focused her attention on him. He cleared his throat, a serious look on his face.

"Miss Romanoff," he said formerly. "New information has surfaced concerning the operation. It seems that Agent Barton is now the number one suspect in regard to the mole hunt. Did he mention anything to you at all about this? Did he let anything slip while you two were together?"

Natasha was still for a moment and then slowly shook her head.

"You're absolutely sure he said nothing to you about anything?" he inquired.

"No, he didn't," she said almost inaudibly.

"Alright," Bailey said after a few seconds. "Agent Cane will inform you of what is to happen now that Agent Barton has… disappeared. If you remember anything, report it to him. He will be your new guardian."

He nodded to her before making his way to the door and exiting, leaving her alone with Cane once more. He watched her and then walked over, sitting in the spot Bailey had occupied a few seconds earlier.

"Miss Romanoff," he said softly. "Because it seems he is responsible for what has happened recently, and has managed to slip away, it would seem that, until we can apprehend him, the investigation is still on-going. That means you'll still be under our protection."

He raised his eyebrows to make sure Natasha understood what he was saying. She nodded and he continued. "We've managed to take down the Russians but you might still be in danger with… the suspect having escaped. Therefore we're putting you into protective custody until this operation is complete. Do you understand what that means?"

"New name, new identity," Natasha said tonelessly. "You're taking me somewhere I'll be safe until he's caught and the blueprints are destroyed."

"Correct," he said quietly. They were both silent for a moment and then Cane cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry for what's happened," he said and Natasha looked up at him curiously. He gave her a look of sympathy, so she could only assume he knew what had happened between her and Barton.

She sighed. "I'm sorry I hurt you when you came to my house."

Cane chuckled. "To be honest, we should have expected it. You are John's daughter after all."

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. Maybe Cane had new information. "Where is he? My father I mean," she added when Cane looked at her in confusion. He pondered the thought and then shrugged.

"No one has heard from him so he's probably still off the grid," he said. "Until he gets back to headquarters his location is anyone's guess. But don't worry, Miss Romanoff. You'll be safe until he gets back."

Natasha felt like she was missing something. She knew for a fact her father was back - he'd literally been standing right in front of her. But... If he hadn't come back, maybe there was a reason for his silence. "What information was found that made it clear that… that Barton was the mole?" she asked evenly. Cane shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to say. It's classified."

Natasha lowered her head. She'd keep her father's presence a secret for now. "Whatever it was, it must have been huge for him to be accused so quickly."

"If I were to say anything to you, I would say yes," Cane agreed. "Otherwise I wouldn't have believed it when I was told." Natasha looked up at him. "You didn't believe he could do it?"

"Of course not," Cane said immediately. "I worked under the guy for years. He was as straight as they come, just like your father. They loved to serve their country. But solid proof was found incriminating Agent Barton, so it must be true. I only wish I knew why he did it," he added sadly. "He'd always been the most loyal agent I ever met."

Natasha felt tears forming and she blinked them away before the agent noticed. Luckily he seemed deep in thought. "Um," she started and Cane looked at her. "How long do I have until I leave for my new life?"

Cane checked his watch. "You won't be leaving for another few hours. You have the day to yourself and then we'll both be leaving for your new location. I hope you're okay with that," he said politely.

Natasha smiled weakly. She was beginning to like the agent; she was glad considering he would be protecting her now. "Yeah, that's fine," she said quietly. Cane left her to have time alone after that, and Natasha walked across to her bed, the sheets still messy from last night. She sat down on the edge.

She couldn't hold it in any longer. Looking at the bed just made her think of what she'd shared with Barton and how he'd betrayed her. Tears were forming in her eyes and she let them fall as she sank to the ground, her back against the foot of the bed. She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She sobbed quietly, allowing herself just a brief moment of relief from the pain that she felt, knowing that the first man she ever loved had turned out to be a liar and a fake. The kisses they shared no longer seemed spontaneous and passionate but planned and acted out. His touches, instead of giving her comfort, just made her feel cheap. She held her knees closer, grasping for the only comfort she would get for a long time. After what had happened, she wanted to forget everything and never let it happen again. She never wanted to feel the heartbreak and betrayal from another man who turned out to lie an hurt people to get what he wanted.

Never again. Her walls that once stood tall around her heart would be mended and kept up again until she felt otherwise. She would never allow herself to feel this low, this useless and pathetic, ever again.

Tears still streaming down her face, she picked herself up and stripped the bed, throwing the sheets and the blankets to the ground in the corner. When she finished, she silently wiped her eyes and began the process of putting herself back together.

When Cane came to retrieve her a few hours later, a stranger would never have guessed the woman who answered the door had just had her heart ripped out.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She gave him a small smile. "Let's go."

* * *

John Graham watched the man get into his car. As he drove away, he felt his cell phone vibrating. Taking it out of his pocket, he saw it was from Clint:

_Took a page out of your book. Let me know if I can do anything else. _

John smiled. Clint had done exactly as he'd asked, so now all he had to do was keep the real mole under surveillance until the inevitable moment he tripped up and was exposed.

Thank god he had Clint.

His pupil had grown in leaps and bounds over the years and he was as proud of him as he was of his daughter. She might not know it, but he loved her with all his heart - which made it even harder for him to ask Clint to do this.

When he'd seen Clint and Natasha back at the museum, he'd quickly seen how much they'd come to trust and respect each other in such a short amount of time. He didn't know for sure how deep their feelings for each other went, and he wasn't sure he wanted to, but he knew enough to acknowledge Clint's part in this was not something that would be taken lightly in Natasha's eyes. It would obviously deliver a blow to whatever relationship Clint shared with her. Hopefully when this was all over he could explain to his daughter why it was necessary and how it wasn't Clint's fault.

His whole life, he'd had three big regrets. Not being there to see his little girl blossom into a perfect young woman was the first. The second was not being able to save Alexandra. The third… well, maybe there was still time to fix that one.

_No time to dwell on that, _he thought to himself as he stood up from behind some bushes. He walked the short distance to the motel he was staying at and set his camera down when he got into his room. He figured Nat would be getting put into protective study by now, which was good considering the real mole was still at large. The further away she was from all of this, the better. And while she was away, the mole would slowly let his guard down while the agency was searching for Clint, and John would catch him when he would eventually try and carry out his plan of selling the blueprints. It didn't matter how long it would take, they'd catch him. Then he could get back to doing his job and Nat could get back to living instead of being holed up like a prisoner. However, he was happy Clint had kept his word.

Before leaving for Russia, he'd made Clint promise that if anything ever happened to him, he'd look out for his little girl. Well, he'd done that and John would forever be grateful. He was lucky to have both of them. He'd also been lucky to have Valentina at one point, but he'd ruined that a long time ago.

As he showered, he thought back on his time with the woman he loved up to this day. When Alexandra had died he'd tried to deal with it by putting his all into his job - and it had worked for a while. When he'd saved Valentina during one of his missions though he'd developed a soft spot for her and given her a job cleaning one of the many homes he'd acquired. Their fragile friendship had developed into something more until they'd become lovers for a few years. He knew Valentina had cared deeply for him, and he her, but because he was always on missions he broke it off at the risk of her ending up like his late wife. He'd loved Alexandra with all his heart, and going through that again would have ended him. It was a lonely existence, but necessary for Valentina to live a happy life. He tried moving on, but he found he simply didn't want to. He was content to think of what might have been with the woman who helped him move on from his first love.

Dredging up old memories must have made him tired. One minute he was wide awake, the next minute he was dreaming about Barcelona, the first time in a while.

* * *

**So there you go :)**

**I wanted Natasha to have a relationship with another character that was sort of outside in terms of their time spent together. I also wanted to give a back story to her dad, show how he saw things and how he is in relation to Natasha. **

**I hope you enjoyed it, and don't worry, i promise the next chapter will be better! :)**


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